Professional Interest
by Kilarra
Summary: In a world where the Titans don't exist, how do heros destined to join together find each other?In a lab of secrets, can Dr. Rachel Roth unravel the web between her best friend Kori and her mysterious boyfriend Dick, the head of security Dr. Vic Stone, and the unusual subject of their research, a creature they call Beast Boy.
1. Part I: Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So I'm still here and still writing Teen Titans fiction. I've just had a couple set backs, namely, my hard drive keeps crashing. So I write something, it's beautiful, then boom. So I write it again, it's getting beautiful, then boom. So I was starting to kind of hate that last chapter of Siren's Call and had to take a little break. This is the result: a sort of "dystopian" start to the Titans. I'm hoping to keep it short and, to try and prevent those 6-12 month update times you're all used to from me, I'm trying to stay a couple chapters ahead in my writing. We'll see how that works out… Any whoo, here you go! I'm finding it interesting to write and hopefully you'll find it equally interesting to read.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor am I making any profit. This is a harmless exercise in fandom and I can't afford a lawyer anyway, so please to not sue. Thanks and have a nice day.**

* * *

"The subject is just up ahead," said a young man in his mid twenties in a rushed, nervous voice, taking quick steps towards a steel security door that filled the corridor ahead. The sharp click of heels told him his charge was having no trouble keeping up. He chanced a quick glance at her as he paused at the door, fumbling with a security card. She gazed back at him through rimless glasses with such intensity he had to look away. No response.

Very little about his life could be considered ordinary, not since the government agents had approached him at Cal. Tech. and offered him the internship of a lifetime. One minute he was a grad student, fighting for his doctorate in genetic mutagens, the next he "fit a profile" and was whisked away to this underground lab to help study a most peculiar subject. He'd never seen anything like it before and doubted he would ever again. Not at the rate their research was going, anyway. That's why this new scientist had been brought in. And she was perhaps the second least ordinary thing he had encountered thus far.

She did not fit "the profile" in any way shape or form and stood out as different even to the newly enlightened student. The woman was not tall, maybe 5'4" at the most, but did not need her 4" black heels to look imposing. Her dress was modest and high collared, professional but still feminine, and dark blue, her skin pale and beautiful. Her hair looked like she cut herself, crisp and straight at approximately chin-length, the front half held behind her head with a simple black clip. Perhaps the most interesting thing about it was that, though it seemed a simple blue-black, sometimes the light would catch it and it would, well, shimmer. Unmistakably violet. It couldn't be real, but it sure seamed that way. Like a trick of the light or mirage in the heat. Like her eyes…

She would have transfixed any human male if it weren't for the scholarly cold that accompanied her presence. There was something past intimidating, something almost frightening about her. At the ripe age of 28, Dr. Rachel Roth had obtained doctorates in animal behavior, comparative genetics, and abnormal psychology with additional degrees in mutagenesis, immunology, and in an unexpected twist of interest, occultism. Prodigy would have been the best way to describe her, yet she had published no papers, received no awards, nor conducted any research he knew of. To the academic world, she was unknown. No- unknown was too mild of a term.

For all intents and purposes, Dr. Rachel Roth did not exist. How they found her or why they brought her here was beyond his capacity to understand. "They" had almost unlimited resources and wanted him to discover haw the subject was physically capable of doing what he did. Questions were not part of the deal. He did his job and was rewarded with knowledge, experience, and more money than he though possible as long as he kept in line. That was as much as any student with his amount of debt could ask for.

"You'll need to be careful. The subject is highly unpredictable and dangerous," he said as the door slid open, not looking at her this time. He heard a delicate but distinctive snort as they continued on briskly.

"I've been around my fair share of wild animals, sir. I do know how to handle myself," she shot back with an icy edge. The boy stopped at the next metal door and swiped his card again, blushing visibly and dropping his head slightly. Dr. Roth regarded him with one raised eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Roth. I did not mean to imply-"

"How much security does one subject need," she asked, cutting him off.

"The subject himself or the secret of its existence? Both are considered… sensitive."

"I see," she said, her gravelly voice dripping with sarcasm. She clearly did not see the need for so many doors or such high levels of security. The intern chanced a glance at her as the door slid open, still red.

"Forgive me, Dr. Roth, but how much do you know about the subject?"

"How much did you know before they brought you here?"

His color deepened.

"Next to nothing." There was the sound of arms being folded as they walked. "If you don't already know I'm not sure I have the authority to tell you…"

"I'll discover the nature of the subject myself. What I'd like to know is why you need so much security to shelter an animal, uncommon as it may be. Why all the secrecy?"

The boy paused, licking his lips. "Lets just say… The subject is of interest to us, animal rights activists, and…human interest groups. Its appearance- well, you'll see for yourself."

The hall ended in an abrupt steel door. A security pad flashed blue on the left wall and the boy pressed one hand to it. With the other he fished something out of his pocket, handing it to Dr. Roth. Their fingers brushed as she took the flash drive, sending a shiver down his spine. The final door slid open he stepped to the side, glad the transit was over.

"The enclosure is just up ahead. The USB port is hooked up to an encrypted data bank that acts kind of like a lock, so you should have no trouble getting in with this." She gave him a skeptical look.

"You're not coming with," she asked dryly. He shook his head and tried to smile. His neck tensed as she stared at him and he felt his palms begin to sweat. Something about this woman unnerved him. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to get back to the lab, to the cell cultures and microscopes. Back to the science. She held him frozen to the spot for a moment longer, then turned to brush by him. As she passed he caught the sent of lavender and a question leapt into his throat. Something he'd been wondering ever since he'd gotten the assignment to take Dr. Roth to the subject.

"If I may," he started quickly, tripping over his words. She paused, almost turning. The delicate curve of her jaw was visible over one slim shoulder. Permission granted. "Why are you here? I mean- I know and respect your credentials, and of course you would not have come without reason. But, if I may, I would think your skills would be of better use in the lab analyzing the DNA samples. Why are you going to see it?"

A mirthless smile curved her pale lips as she turned back to face front. "As I understand it, your work has been primarily genetic in nature," she started, more a statement than a question. He nodded and, though she couldn't have seen his head jerk, she continued as if she had. "Your superiors think its time we start looking at the organism in a… broader context. I was the only one qualified and the kind of work I plan on doing requires personal contact."

Something about the way she said that worried him. He swallowed. "What kind of work?"

"How much do _you_ know about the nature of the subject?"

"Beyond his genetic abnormalities, next to nothing," the intern admitted with a stiff shrug. Dr. Roth let out a hollow laugh and shot him a final look before passing over the threshold into the next corridor.

"It may be demonic." The intern felt the blood drain from his face as the door slid shut.

* * *

Dr. Roth continued down the hall on her own, the sharp click of her heels echoing with each step. A small voice chuckled in her mind, amused at the intern's reaction to her story. It couldn't have been that odd by comparison; he himself had to have a similar one. Those ambiguous people in charge (some unknown sector of the government) had visited her in Gotham, claiming to have a creature that was best described as abnormal. Its genetic structure was unstable, capable of rapid shifting between expressed and unexpressed traits, and contained information from every known creature, even some unknowns. What had gotten her attention, and no doubt upset the intern, was the possibility of a demonic connection. Chances were slim, but anything that gave modern science trouble was worth some investigation. Natural was fine, but the _unnatural_? That's where things started to get interesting.

Intern probably had some quirky little curiosity himself. Mercifully, he just wasn't sharing. And now, he wouldn't be inviting her to any water-cooler gossip or office parties either. She was here to work. Investigate what she came to investigate, then leave. If this creature truly had demonic connections, then it was worth her time. If not, then leave the scientists to their pet. She didn't care. She had enough problems of her own to deal with without adding animal rights activism. Besides, anything these humans did to it was better than what her father would do in their place…

Shaking her head with a jerk of her neck, Dr. Roth halted outside the final door. White the others had been simple steel this one looked to be some sort of double platted titanium alloy. There was a low hum as electricity surged through it, a high voltage cage to restrain even the most massive of creatures. She almost wondered why there wasn't a moat and drawbridge. The previous doors had been designed to keep people out and would give if several tons of muscle were to slam against them a couple times. This door was built to contain. A massive power, still unknown to modernity, lay in wait just behind these walls. With a deep breath, Dr. Roth pulled the cap off the flash drive and inserted it into the one structural weakness in the hall, the tiny USB port by her right hand. After thirty seconds of grinding, clicking, and beeping, the door cracked. A gust of cold air rushed out at her, as though the room on the other side was pressurized, then the door slid slowly open.

Whatever monster Dr. Roth expected to see, whatever beast she thought had been entombed here, it was nothing close to the truth. The room was cylindrical and white; no corners to hid in, no abnormalities to stare at, no escape from the sterility of it. Just pure and unadulterated "sample chamber." At its center was a slightly raised platform, sloping up from the ground to avoid any sharp angles, and on that platform was something… green. At first she though it was some kind of monkey; she couldn't really tell, it had its back to her, but before she could decide what sort of primate she was dealing with, it changed. And not just "hair falling to one side" or "a new and shocking detail is noticed" kind of change. It wasn't even a subtle as "she thought it was one kind of primate, but from this new angle it looked like another." No, the thing changed its fundamental biological class. What she now saw could not be.

Where a mammal of some sorts had undoubtedly stood when the door had opened, sitting quietly on the raised platform, there was now nothing short of a dinosaur. A massive, carnivorous, crouching allosaurus. It looked at her with perfectly white eyes and let out a blood-freezing roar, shaking its head and rattling the white shackles around its wrists and ankles. The polymer had stretched to accommodate the new size of its charge, but even as Dr. Roth's eyes fixed on the chains something seemed to go wrong. A single link in each chain had begun to bend with the force of this new monster and, as it tried to stand up to its full height, they started to crack. The room was too small to comfortably fit a dinosaur and the allosaurus thrashed angrily, leg muscles straining to lift its front half as the bindings strained to hold it down. Dr. Roth heard screaming, either from herself or over the intercom, but she couldn't bring herself to move from the threshold. Her body acted as a door jam, preventing perhaps the most advanced door known to mankind from doing its duty and closing. All she had to do was retreat two steps to safety and let tons of titanium alloy and electric current crash down between her and the monster, but the shock of this encounter had left her unable to think clearly.

It was not possible. It was not natural yet in no way demonic either.

With a final ear-splitting cry the allosaurus snapped the weak links in the chains binding its arms and stood to its full, terrifying height. Its tail was pressed against the wall, pinned by the lack of space, and it thrashed its body in annoyance, stomping its feet and straining to move forward. The weak links cracked, then, in an explosion of metallic polymer, broke. The beast moved forward as Dr. Roth's insides constricted. Her ribcage was collapsing, her lungs couldn't expand properly. She couldn't breath, couldn't run, couldn't so much as move as the carnivore advanced. It dropped its head to regard her and she could smell its breath.

Then, in a blur of green, it was gone. Dr. Roth's pupils dilated even more as she searched the room frantically, wondering in the small part of her mind that retained rationality how something so big could just disappear like that. A sudden impact on her chest forced both her attention and her body downward. She fell, her head cracking on the cold metal floor on impact, causing colored stars to wink around the lupine form of her attacker. The same white eyes stared at her from above a salivating jaw lined with conical canines, perfectly displayed by a snarling snout. Paws pinned her to the ground and claws dug into her shoulders. She could feel the wolf's growl rumble through its entire body, feel its moist breath on her face. For the first time in a long time, Dr. Roth knew fear.

The wolf moved its attention from her to the hallway, still snarling. It dropped its head low so that its snout was just next to her ear and she felt the most peculiar sensation in the in the places the wolf was touching her. But it wasn't a wolf at all. The shoulders she saw hunched over her own, the curving back that arched along her midline, the legs squatting to either side of her abdomen… they were human. The skin, however, was definitely not human. Not unless there had been some recent disaster she didn't know about that had started turning people green. And there was enough skin for Dr. Roth to say with absolute certainty that this human was green. This… thing, whatever form it took, was always indisputably green. And its innate form seemed to be human. Her eyes darted back to the platform where he'd been bound and caught a pile of shredded white cloth. Hands gripped her shoulders and a rough, slightly high but very male voice whispered something in her ear.

"Thanks."

He pulled back his head and looked her full in the face. It was only the briefest of flashes, more of a repositioning than an attempt to make eye contact, but in that instant Dr. Roth took in every detail she could find. His face was short and mostly round, but came to a sharp point at his chin like a teardrop, his cheekbones high and defined. His ears were long and pointed, and stuck out just a little like some kind of imp, his hair forest green and messy. It had been hacked short a while ago and was now growing out around his face. His canines and nails were unusually sharp and long, giving him a slightly animalistic appearance even in his human form. The eyes though… His eyes were unlike anything Dr. Roth had ever seen. They too were green like the rest of him, but the most remarkably brilliant of greens, and faceted like emeralds, alive in the sterile light. When she looked at them, past them, Dr. Roth could see the jungle. Yet at the same time they were cold and calculating, planning and very intelligent. There was a hardness there she somehow knew was not dictated by nature, but by circumstance. They were the most unusual eyes after her own she had ever seen.

The moment passed as quickly as it came and the man was gone. As Dr. Roth pulled herself into a kneeling position, rubbing the throbbing spot here her head had hit the floor and looking around, she caught a glimpse of a cheetah rushing towards the door. As it leapt she found it wasn't a cheetah at all, but a grizzly bear. Claws sank into metal and tore, leaving a gash in the steel. The bear screamed in triumph, ripping at the tears in the metal, pealing the cracks back to make a hole and puncturing the other side. Droplets of bright red blood fell from cut arms and paws, smearing around the jagged edges. And then the bear was gone and Dr. Roth saw a dot of green buzz through the hole to the other side.

There was yelling and shouting, then a loud crash of something suddenly large falling out of the air. Dr. Roth, still dazed, reached out to the wall and received a shock from the slightly charged security door. Yelping, she pulled back, clutching her hand to her chest. An inhuman howl echoed down the hall and she could see flashes of green and grey just past the steel door. With a moan she shifted onto her hands and knees, crawling forward, needing to see what was happening. The crashing and screaming kept getting louder and she thought she could make out words, but wasn't entirely sure. Her hand hurt more than she thought it should have from a simple shock.

"Hold it! **Hold it down!**"

"I can't! I- ugh."

"The prods! Where the hell are the damn cattle prods!"

"They won't do any good! Not against-Look out!"

"Watch its tail! **Watch the tail!** Give me that!"

"But Sir!"

"**Give me that now!**"

A cry of pain. The sound of something heavy moving through the air. An electrical discharge and another scream. Dr. Roth was almost to the hole. She tried to stand up but her legs were locked.

"It's down! The nets! Quick, the nets!"

"It's too big!"

"That's why we have more than one, idiot!"

A human scream. A crash as flesh hit the wall.

"**No!** Not the live rounds. We're not supposed to kill it, moron!."

"But Jeff!"

"Is either going to be fine or dead. He's still getting paid isn't he? Now get it together or you're- **Look out!**"

"Don't let it change! Shock it! Shock it!"

More screams. Dr. Roth reached out to the door, to pull herself up, but recoiled at the sight of her own flesh. Her hand was black and charred, like she'd stuck it into a fire, and burns peppered her palm. What kind of security did these people have? What lengths had they gone- would they go to to keep their specimen?

Explosions like gunfire, roars of rage and agony. Electrical discharges and bangs.

"That right, you've got it! Now pull it- Pull it down! For the love of- **Take it down! **Gimme that!"

There was more banging and screaming and then, finally, something heavy hit the floor and men cheered. Dr. Roth bit her lip and willed herself to her feet. She peered through the hole. A green gorilla lay pinned under about three different nets that were magnetically adhered to both each other and the ground, straining against them. About four men lay either prostrate on the ground or slouched against the wall, either unconscious or clutching broken ribs. Four more were nursing less serious wounds and standing over the gorilla, congratulating each other. The gorilla snapped its jaws at the men, growling and sending at least one hopping away.

"And that, boys," gloated the one who seemed to be in charge, propping the net gun on his shoulder. "Is how the real men do it in Africa."

"What are we going to do with it? Shouldn't we… you know," said another one sheepishly, whipping sweat from his brow and gesturing vaguely to the gorilla. Another one grabbed what looked like an advanced cattle prod, its end sparking with blue energy.

"You know what the boffins say, no known anesthetic can take this thing down. I say we just shock it 'till it goes back to that other shape and stops fighting."

"Now now," chided the one in charge, amused. "Lets not damage the prize more than in necessary." Dr. Roth personally did not count the previous beating as "necessary," nor could she currently think of a better way to subdue a shape-shifter against whom all known anesthetics were apparently useless. "The docs say this should do the trick just fine, once he's subdued. They've only made a bit, so we don't get to waste it on games." He pulled out an autoinjector and tapped it lightly.

The gorilla squirmed angrily, thrashing, white eyes wide. The man squatted next to him, smirking. "Hey, there's no use arguing, we already won the fight. Good effort though, I think this is the farthest you've gotten. Be a good monster and accept defeat." The changeling roared and slid back to his human form. For a moment the bonds went slack and he took the opportunity tear his elbow across the other man's jaw. The man stopped smiling and dropped his knee into the changeling's gut, stabbing the autoinjector into his thigh. The green man screamed, writhing in pain for a moment and shot the guard a wrathful look. Then his body began to relax and his eyes glazed over. His breath slowed and, though he tried to shake it off with sharp jerks of his head, the drug quickly won out and he was gone.

The man grinned again, reaching out to pat the shape-shifter lightly on the cheek. "Good boy," he crooned, causing the other men to laugh, albeit a little nervously. "Come on boys! Lets put the animal back in his cage."


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here we are, chapter 2. I could have more to say, but I wrote this a bit ago and am watching 24. My faith in humanity plummets when I watch that show… Anyway, lets just say the fan has started up and it's spinning very quickly. Hopefully we'll get all the pieces on the board soon. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: It is not my intent to infringe any copyright, and I'm not making a profit. I don't own anything. So, we cool?**

* * *

"It was impossible, Kori," said Rachel, her long fingers coiled tightly around a mug of herbal tea. "That's the only way I can describe it, impossible."

Her one and only friend, Kori Anders, sat across from her at the kitchen table, her fingers tapping lightly against a cup of mustard. This was one of Kori's many quirks to which Rachel had grown accustomed. Her long mass of auburn hair hung past the seat of the chair, falling over her golden shoulders unrestrained. A single ornamental braid hung in front of her right ear and she played with it occasionally, twisting it about her free hand. Her eyes were an unnatural looking shade of brown, as if she wore contacts of some sort, though Rachel knew she had excellent vision. She wore a light pink blouse that was utterly transparent, a small purple tank top (that did not reach past her ribcage) and a look of concern. Her light denim miniskirt was frayed at the edges and her pink toenails flashed vibrantly in plain white flip-flops.

"Was it, then…" she started, trailing off. Her intent eyes swept the room as if looking for the right word, then returned to Rachel's face. "As you hoped?" Rachel snorted.

"Yeah, I suppose "hoped" is the right term…"

The two had met in Gotham when Kori was drawn into an occult shop by an impressive array of prisms (protective wards). Rachel had had the fortune of explaining their use to her and, in doing so, opened herself to hear the girl's life story in a gush of gratitude. She said she was from here-and-there and had the most peculiar syntax Rachel had ever heard. No accent, just an odd way of arranging words. Kori had just moved to Gotham from California, following a boyfriend Rachel never actually met, but unfortunately circumstances prevented her from finding him at the moment. She had become quite terribly lost and these odd elevation devises were beginning to hurt her feet and she would very much appreciate it if her new friend could direct her to a good place to stay. She had money, but no idea how to use it and Rachel, in an uncharacteristic act of charity brought on by a mix of pity and genuine concern for the girl's safety, offered her couch. Kori accepted with gusto, calling her something sweet in a language Rachel had never heard before. The two had stuck together ever since.

They were as different as two women could be, each an utter paradox in their own way. Kori was very social and, though she had learned better than to bring any of them home, had many friends. Her looks were enough to get her into the most exclusive of clubs, acts which she perceived to be sheer altruism, and though her dress was far from modest, her behavior and self-image remained innocent. She was sensitive and bubbly and more than a little prone to extreme moods, but well intentioned and, oddly enough, as respectful of Rachel's oddities as Rachel was of hers.

Rachel, on the other hand, was cold and remote, as in control of her emotions as she was of her hands. She valued quiet solitude and would much rather get acquainted with new books as opposed to new people. Her tastes were dark and conservative, but she knew the art of being a woman as well as anyone and could wield it with deadly precision. Where Kori had utter faith in humanity and the goodness of the individual, Rachel decidedly withheld judgment until at least four people proved her disparaging view of the world wrong. So far, only Kori had been able to do that and, as a result, Rachel cherished her. And from time to time let her paint her toenails or braid her hair or engage in the "spa days of friendship building." Kori had been the one to provoke the first meeting with Rachel's new employers and, when she had moved to Jump for the job, Kori had accompanied her. The two, as always, shared an apartment. Separate rooms.

Rachel had gotten home sometime around 2:00 AM and found Kori waiting at the kitchen table expectantly, herbal tea already steeping. It was clear she'd been waiting since she herself had returned from one of her temp jobs, sensing something had gone poorly that day. The two had sat in silence for what seemed like hours before Rachel found herself ready to articulate the chaos in her mind.

"Natural creatures can not do what that thing did. Natural animals have one shape and one shape only. I don't know that demons can either. This… he can't exist."

"Did he harm you," Kori asked gently, her eyes soft, searching, and unyielding. They flicked down to her bandaged electrical burns. "Did he do that?"

"He scared the crap out of me and knocked me around some, but the burns are from the door. These people have the most ridiculous security, like nothing I've ever seen. If the shut down field did this," She waved her bandaged hand. "Then I'd hate to see what would happen to anything that tried to break through it while it was on."

She paused to give Kori a suspicious look. "What kind of people have you gotten me involved with?"

"I am sorry, friend Rachel," Kori said, hanging her head slightly. "They said they work for your government and were very polite. They explained their needs and I knew that instant you were qualified. I believed it would be… fun? Within your area of interest and thus an enjoyable experience for you."

"How did you even meet them," Rachel continued in a slightly accusatory tone. Kori looked sheepish.

"My boy who is also a friend, what is the phrase… my boyfriend, Dick. He is very knowledgeable."

Rachel raised a skeptical eyebrow. She'd known Kori for three years now and had never once met this boyfriend of hers, Dick Grayson. If it had been Rachel with the boyfriend, this wouldn't have seemed so odd, but Kori wanted to introduce her to the ducks in the park. When asked about this Dick, Kori became uncharacteristically evasive. It was concerning to say the least.

"And how much did you know about what kind of work I would be doing before you sent me into the lair of the beast?"

"Friend Raven," exclaimed Kori, knocking over he mustard as she reached for Rachel's hands, grasping them with ridiculous strength. "Surely you are aware I would never put you in danger if I knew otherwise. You must know I shall always protect you!"

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"My name is Rachel, remember? You must not call me Raven. Someone might hear." Her grip loosened.

"I am sorry. It is difficult to remember all the time."

"I don't blame you, Kori, you couldn't have known," she said carefully, pulling her hands from Kori's grip. The woman appeared deflated and mildly hurt by the act, placing her fists delicately in her lap. "I'm just a little… unnerved. You know how I hate to admit that sort of thing."

"Does the tea not help?"

"The tea is wonderful, really. A little cold, but still good."

Her eyes lit up at that, her long, beautiful face bursting into a smile.

"Then I shall increase its temperature using microwave radiation and generate more with the stove device!" Rachel lifted her eyebrows as she yielded her mug, almost grinning. As she watched her bustle around in their alcove of a kitchen, her mind began to wonder.

The day had started out so slowly, then accelerated without any plan or warning. She could recall the details of her morning, her peppermint tea breakfast, her long and dull train ride to inner Jump made slightly better by her favorite rendition of the Wolfman legend, then the painfully awkward ride to the facility in the company car. The unabashed schmoozing, the unbridled compliments, and lavished praise of her expertise, gratitude that she had agreed to work with them on this project, assurances that her safety would be guaranteed, yada yada yada. Then came the security briefing, the swearing to secrecy, the briefing on protocol, etc. Finally, the ambiguous people in black suits or white lab coats had explained why she was there.

Their subject was an oddity, no doubt, but not just a genetic one. Its mutations were… downright unnatural and their science had found nothing that could have given rise to such a creature. They'd been at it for over a year and, rather than discount any option as too foolish to peruse, thought it best to call in an expert on the unnatural. Apparently, Dr. Roth came highly recommended (Rachel wondered how that was) and, even if the creature did not turn out to be demonic by nature, she could still be of great assistance in getting its cooperation. They had been… unsuccessful in that respect, despite their best efforts and persuasive methods (Rachel wondered about that too). So far, samples had only been obtained from its innate form. There was no further elaboration; Rachel cut them off before they rambled any further. She wanted to see the subject for herself before investing any serious effort into the project. The scientists begrudgingly accepted and sent their best slave labor with clearance to take her to the specimen. She'd creeped out the intern for her own amusement, and proceeded to her encounter…

It was fragmented after that.

"What is he like?" Rachel almost started as Kori set a steaming mug in front of her.

"What?"

"This being you are to study. What is he like? Does he have a name?"

"Kori, he's a scientific specimen, professional detachment is not only recommended, but necessary. If he has a name, I should not know about it."

"Dick says they have been calling him… Beast Boy."

"How original," commented Rachel sarcastically.

"It must be terrible," she continued, gazing off to some distant point. "Trapped there, alone, without friends or family. Caged like some kind of animal."

"We're all animals," said Rachel coldly. "Some of us are just more trained then others. Why are we talking about this? You act like he's human or something."

"One shouldn't need to be human to be treated as such," Kori responded, sitting down across from her. Her fingers brushed the wood lightly as they ran along the edge of the table. Kori was sad, her compassion for this creature she'd never seen filling the room like fog. "If one has feelings and thoughts, that should be enough."

Rachel didn't answer.

"I wonder how he came to be, this shape shifter," Kori continued, oblivious of Rachel's critical stare. "Was he born like this? Did he have a family? Where are they now? Dick has told me little of these things-"

"Why does your boyfriend know anything? Is he involved?"

She flushed and hurried to occupy herself, bending to clean up her spilled mustard. "No, not at all."

"Why are you lying to me, Kori?"

"Please, friend, I would never-"

"Yes you would," she cut Kori off, crossing her legs and looking into her tea frigidly. "If you thought it was somehow for the best. Which would primarily happen if Mr. Grayson told you it was, for some reason or another."

Kori paused, bighting her lower lip. Her skin seemed to shimmer in the harsh fluorescent light, a gleam of green in the whites of her eyes. She reached out and picked up the glass of mustard, fortunate none of it had actually spilled out.

"The head of security is Dick's friend. His name is Dr. Victor Stone and he is not supposed to speak of his job to outsiders." She turned to look at Rachel, her eyes glittering. "You will not tell anyone I have told you this? I could not stand to betray Dick or Victor's confidence in trusting you."

"I'm not going to rat you out, Kori," said Rachel, still looking at her tea. "I just have this feeling I'm involved in something larger than a research job and would prefer it if you were honest with me."

"I'm sorry," Kori hung her head, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders in silken locks. Rachel rolled her eyes at the dramatics, sipping her tea. She was well aware that Kori had secrets, perhaps even as many as Rachel herself, and wouldn't pry too deep as long as Kori did the same. One day, when it was safe, the honesty they both desired would emerge like life in the spring. One day, when it was safe, Kori would understand Rachel's fascination with demons. And hopefully on that day, Rachel would have the privilege of meeting Mr. Grayson and discovering exactly how it was he knew so much. Today was not that day and they both knew it. Today, like all days, they simply had to trust each other. It drove Rachel crazy.

"Is there anything you can tell me," she sighed, swirling her tea and sipping it again. Kori perked up immediately, as she always did, smiling in embarrassment.

"I admittedly do not know much; I am not directly involved myself," she started, fumbling for words. She wanted to disclose everything, but the web of conspiracy in which she'd somehow become entangled prevented her. It was in Kori's nature to be truthful, but also loyal and reliable. Anything she could say, she would without hesitation when properly provoked. "But from what Dick and Victor have told me… I have formed some of my own conclusions. Conclusions which, I believe, they share."

Rachel sat back in her seat, gazing at Kori intently. She was still being unusually cryptic, as if this entire scheme had been ticking for a long time now and Rachel had only just been brought on board. It was interesting.

"But I mustn't share them with you now."

"He spoke to me, Kori. When I let him out he thanked me. In English. What kind of animal does that? What kind of people keep something like that?"

"It is important that you form your own opinion of this… work… and the people it involves. It is important that you make your own decisions, unbiased by me," Kori responded slowly, swallowing anxiously. There was something she was just dying to tell her, but didn't know how to say it. Rachel sighed again.

"Well that's just fantastic."

"Friend Rachel," said Kori in a blur. "I know you do not think much of your own morality, but you _are_ an honorable person. I believe you would be capable of many good things, great things, if given the opportunity. Please look upon this as just such an opportunity."

"It's not like you to be so mysterious, Kori," Rachel said, folding her arms. "Just what are you trying to say?"

"I wish to say… I wish to ask you to trust your instincts. And to, how do you say it, keep an open mind."

"About?"

"Beast Boy."

* * *

For the second time that week, Dr. Rachel Roth stood outside the beast's cage. The flash drive that serviced as a key was clutched tightly in her hand, hovering just outside of its port. She'd had to practically fight her way back in here, declining an escort and ultimately threatening to abandon the entire operation if they didn't allow her to proceed. This time she was prepared, she'd said. There wouldn't be any repeats of the previous incident, she'd said. Besides, she was a hands on type of researcher. She needed to establish a relationship with this creature, be it animal or demon, and to do that she needed to be alone with him. That may have been a slight fabrication with respect to the pure science aspect, but she didn't trust these people. And based on his previous treatment, she was pretty sure the changeling Beast Boy was none too inclined to trust them either.

She swallowed, hesitant. Rachel was nor one to scare easily; her primary work involved demons, for goodness sake. But the sight of that, for lack of a better word, man, turning into a dinosaur… It was unnerving to say the least. She thought she'd been prepared for anything, she'd thought nothing could surprise her. She'd been wrong and that was as scary as any monster. Rachel was admittedly nervous about this second encounter. What surprised were in store for her this time? What else did he have up its sleeve?

Then again, if he had wanted to kill her, he would have done so when she was pinned. If he had wanted to hurt her or warn her, then why hadn't he left so much as a mark? True, he had proven more than dangerous, yet none of those men actually died. That and, for one bizarre reason or another, Kori seemed to believe he had redeeming qualities.

She was being irrational and that was the first step to bad science. None of this speculation meant anything; all that mattered was the truth. And to find the truth, she would need to be objective.

Steeling her gaze, Rachel inserted the flash drive and waited for the door to open. She swept over the threshold like an ice queen, her flat black boots make no noise as she passed. The door closed fully behind her with a fatalistic grind and she once again faced the subject. His shackles had been replaced, as had his white garments (she suspected the other scientists were uncomfortable with anything remotely human shaped sitting naked in their vault). White bandages wrapped his arms where the steel had cut them, stained with patches of brown-red.

When she entered he glanced over at her with mild interest, pointed ears twitching. She gazed back, expressionless. "They" had cautioned her extensively on this creature's wiles. "It" was cunning, "it" would try and trick her, and "it" most certainly shouldn't be trusted. Based on his previous behavior, she had no doubt he would use her for his own gain in an instant. Yet something in his faceted green eyes spoke of intelligence and pain. She wasn't sure whether she believed "them" or not.

"Hello," she tried coolly, keeping her distance. "Beast Boy" blinked at her, then returned his attention to his fingernails. He picked at them with utter boredom, pointedly turning his back on her. It was both an insult and a challenge. She paused, not sure how to continue. "How are you after last week's little adventure? Still a little sore, I would think."

His eyes narrowed in indignant comprehension, but remained fixed on the cuticle of his right index finger. He was very careful with how he moved his body, communicating primarily through the potency of his gaze. His face was animated and expressive and very personable. He was undoubtedly thinking as he "groomed," undoubtedly planning.

The same could be said of a Boston terrier, she chided herself. Scientists who had been working with this creature for months now were unconvinced of his nature, and the gift of speech hardly proved personhood. A lifetime dealing with real monsters had taught her that. No, Rachel had to stay impartial. Guilty until proven innocent, demonic until proven human.

"Look, I don't have time to waste with games. If you are truly an animal then I will treat you as such, but believe me if you have any semblance of intelligence you do not want that."

He snorted, throwing her a skeptical look. A spray of red speckled the white floor and he paused, the back of one green hand whipping under his nose. He made a move to pinch his nostrils then, noticing Rachel watching, dropped his hand and rolled to his toes. Something that sounded an awful lot like a low growl rumbled in his chest as he squatted. A brown-red streak shone on green skin in the sterile light as a steady drip of blood began to fall from his nose. It pooled on the white floor, glinting vividly.

Rachel, clearly annoyed, dug around in her pocked for a moment and fished out a black handkerchief purposed for cleaning glasses. It was truly obnoxious that she'd have to buy a new one. She started towards the shape shifter purposefully. He growled even louder, rocking back onto the balls of his feet and crouching lower. His pointed ears were pressed back against his skull and his white fangs were bared in a snarl. Blood from his nose streaked their pearly surface, creating a most intimidating display. Rachel hardly flinched, continuing her advance.

"Cut it out," she said sharply, squatting down directly in front of him and holding out the cloth. "You're getting blood everywhere." He eyed her with suspicion, his hair visibly rising on his scalp. In what many would consider a reckless move, Rachel grabbed the back of his head and forced his face into her handkerchief. He emitted a sharp noise that could have been "Hey!" and jerked back, his teeth snapping threateningly. Rachel made a noise of disapproval and pinched the pressure points at the base of his skull.

"Like I said," she hissed into his ear. "If you are an animal then I _will_ treat you like one. But I _heard_ you speak and I _know_ there's more to you than that."

His eyes whipped to her, then up to the ceiling. Rachel kept hers on him, unwilling to divide her attention and risk loosing the potency of her words.

"I am not one of them, do you hear me? I will not lie to you and say I'm your friend, but I have my own agenda and it involves getting to _know_ you. As a person."

His eyes moved back to her in sheer disbelief and horror, like a parent who'd spotted an alligator at the petting zoo. Then he did something past unexpected. Faster than she thought a human could move, his hand slipped to the back of her head and he pulled her in, pressing her ear to his mouth.

"Are you crazy," he hissed, not moving his mouth and speaking directly into her hair. "Like, seriously, are you insane? They can hear you. They're watching."

Rachel paused for a moment, her brow knitting. She could feel the warmth of his hand, the tickle of his breath, and restrained power in his arm. Elements of a man. Yet at the same time the clawed tips of his fingers pressed into her scalp and the scent of blood clogged her nostrils. She was in danger, that much was clear. Danger of what or from whom… that was less clear. Wetness began to soak the fingertips that held her hanker chief.

"Are they now," she breathed back, her breath tickling his ear. The hand on the back of his neck slid to his shoulder and she pushed him back carefully. For a brief moment their eyes met and she saw the most peculiar mixture of relief and suspicion. Rachel removed the cloth from his face, folded it into more nose-sized quarters, then pinched it over his nostrils. He stiffened, but didn't pull back, his eyes wide and unblinking. His body remained rigidly set in a squatting position, as if chiseled out of green marble instead of flesh.

"Shhh," she said in a soft voice. "It's all right. You're all right." The sudden change in her demeanor, the high pitch of her voice, and the unexpected caress of her hand through his hair, caught him off guard. Rachel paid no attention to his surprise. Her eyes swept over the ceiling, settling on a small flashing red light. She gave it a hard scowl, recalculating in her head. Caught between a rock and a hard place, and not for the last time on this particular quest, she thought. So, the shifter was intelligent, as she'd suspected. And there was no chance of him cooperating as long as the "higher ups" were in the loop.

Fine, she wasn't invested in their research anyway. This was still a simple task: find out if this was a demon shifter and discover what he knew. From what she could gather he didn't strike her as the demonic type, but that was no indication. In her mind, that just made him potentially more insidious. Which meant it was just that much more important that he trust her. They were going to be very close, she and "Beast Boy."

"Don't worry boy." She spoke as if to a dog and he raised one inquiring eyebrow at her tone. "I'll take care of it."


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hah! I almost forgot to do this. As you all know, I'm usually very talkative, but right now I'm just not really feeling it. I suppose there's no real need for an author's note unless something needs clarifying**, **but I like to do them anyway. We're starting to get into the meat of things here and soon I should have all the players of the board. I'm not planning on making this particularly long, so things should start going pretty fast from there. Hopefully it is an enjoyable read. **

**Disclaimer: No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. This is a fan work intended purely for entertainment. **

* * *

"_Hush now my little one, lay down your head._

_I'll sing you till slumber all safe in your bed._

_Your dreams are now waiting to take you away,_

_And then you will wake up to start a new day."_

_ A woman with shoulder length brown hair, gently curled around her face. It gleamed in the lamplight as she snuggled up next to him. The cotton sheets were sticky but cool, dampened with water before he'd climbed in. The air, too, was sticky, but hot and stifling. The sheets were nice; they kept him cool enough to ignore her warmth and curl himself against the woman's stomach. She smiled at him as she sang, stroking his hair with calloused fingers. She was not yet ready for bed, nor would she be for a few hours. It was important that she get back to work. There was much work to be done. _

_ He memorized her face. The sharp point of her chin, the dark delicacy of her eyebrows, the definition in her cheek bones. Small beads of sweat made her skin glitter. Her eyes, a gentle brown-green. Soft creases fanned from their corners to her temples as she smiled, but through the eyes of love, even such flaws were beautiful. This woman, plain as she may have been to the passing observer, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. _

_ "Good night love," she said, her fingers leaving his scalp. He made a small noise of protest and she placed one fingertip on his lips. "None of that, you goose. I'll be just in the other room with Daddy."_

_ "But Mommy, what if I get scared. What if the Witch-Man comes and curses us, like he said?"_

_ "Honey, you say that every night and it never happens."_

_ "But Mommy!"_

_ "Shhhhh. The Witch-Man can't hurt us, King Tawaba won't let him, remember?"_

_ "But what if- what if…"_

_ "Well, then Daddy and I will just have to protect you, now won't we. Because nothing is every going to hurt our baby, right?" He nodded, giving her a bright, toothy grin. "Well, nothing, except… Tickle Monsters!"_

_ He squealed with delight, squirming around as her fingers found all the ticklish spots on his ribs and stomach. _

_ Then it stopped. Fingers floated away from him as sound ended. Her skin became pale and blue, her eyes glassy. Slowly, her hair began to float and wave, as if in water, swaying this way and that. Her nails were broken, her fingers still rigid against the hull, still pressed into the clawed grooves. A fish swam up and nibbled on her cheek and he tried to swat it away, but he had no hands. The bed was gone; his limbless body wiggled to maintain position. A man floated next to her, his short brown hair also moving this way and that. There were chips in the hull next to him, small holes to the outside, and an axe rested beneath him. His square face was frozen in shock and horror, one leg twisted at the wrong angle. He tasted copper and death and felt a horrible hunger in his fish belly._

_**"Go Garfield! Fly! Fly away!"**_

_** "Garfield. Garfield listen to me! You need to go now. Turn into a bird and fly away."**_

_** "You can do it, just be brave sweetie. And don't worry, we'll be fine. I promise we'll be fine, but you need to go."**_

_** "Mommy! Daddy!"**_

_** "GO! GO NOW!"**_

_ He flew. He flew a long ways, until his wings burned and his little heart felt ready to explode. A pair of brown-gloved hands reached out of the darkness and embraced him, holding his trembling form in their palms. A face loomed above them, large and peachy, ovular with a pointed chin. Her straight, straw blond hair covered her ears and framed two large, sky blue eyes. Her smile made him want to cry._

_ "Well," she said in a voice that was meant to sound earnest, but whispered lies. "I'm running, and you're running. So why don't we, you know, run together?" She leaned in closer, but seemed to shrink. The gloves now cupped just his hands, a thumb rubbing them enticingly. _

"_I show you things you've never seen and take you places you never even knew existed. There's a whole world out there, Gar, just waiting for people like you and me to start the party. We're gonna be the best of friends, you and I."_

_Lips pressed against his, warm and soft, arms wrapping around his body. _

"_Trust me…"_

_And squeezed. Tighter and tighter. They were hard, not like arms at all. He tried to pull away, but she held fast. He opened his mouth to protest, to ask her to stop, but only air left. A final gasp of defeat. He looked around frantically, wondering how she could be so strong, but it wasn't the girl that held him now. A fist of grey stone encircled his body, pressing his arms into his ribs. She stood away from him now, her fingers splayed, her hands and eyes glowing yellow. Grinning as she crushed him. There was no escape, not then and not now._

"_You're a monster, Gar. You need to be locked up." The stone tightened and he felt bones buckle. He yelped and her grin widened. "Are we having fun yet?"_

He started into wakefulness, his breath coming in a rush. Fear calmed in his mind, beat back by the sterile white light of his prison. He blinked away the images. It wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, or something similar, and it wouldn't be the last. His body didn't care about that though, didn't respond to the logic in his brain. It was covered in cold sweat and trembling. He hugged his knees to his chest and willed it to stop, rattling the chains around his limbs. But it wouldn't. None of this would ever stop.

* * *

"So let me get this straight. You're that new snazzy scientist we brought in from Gotham a week ago. The one our resident changeling attacked on her first visit? And _you_ not only went back, alone, but got close enough to mop up his bloody nose. Now you think you're all buddy-buddy and want me to turn off the cameras while you spend some "quality time" with a "new species of animal?" You honestly think this is gonna turn out well for either of us?"

"That is correct," said Rachel, folding her arms and leaning against a nearby desk. Its surface glowed cyan, illuminating parts of her face and throwing others into shadow. She wore a dark blue blouse and black, knee-length skirt, both of which were pushing the envelope a little on what was professionally appropriate. Her hair was twisted up into a small knot at the back of her head, two loose locks falling from her sharp widows peak to frame her face. She peered over her rimless glasses coldly, assessing her opponent.

Dr. Victor Stone was a large man, tall, broad shouldered, and exceptionally muscular, with dark skin and grey eyes. His dress was casual, jeans and a grey T-shirt, his white lab coat unbuttoned and a little too short. A security card clipped to his chest pocket identified him as head of materials and technology. What was not immediately apparent, and what she might not have ever discovered if it wasn't for Kori's boyfriend contacts, was that he was also head of security on the "Leshy Project." If she wanted "Beast Boy" to talk to her, she needed "Them" blinded. Meaning the cameras in his… cage, needed to be turned off. And if she wanted the cameras off, Dr. Stone was the one to talk to. So here she was, begrudging but determined.

"Wow," he said sarcastically. "You two must have bonded fast. But I guess I already knew that, what with all your snuggling yesterday."

Rachel turned her head dangerously and glared at him. He gave her a brief grin, then turned his attention to a computer monitor to his left.

"Dr. Stone-" she started

"Call me Vic," he said casually, scrolling through a few pages of what looked like nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy data. "If this request is any indication, I think we'll be working very closely."

"I prefer formalities."

"Well all right then, _Dr. Roth. _The answer is no. I can't just go around shutting off security because the new girl thinks she can handle it. Especially so soon after an incident."

"I don't think you understand; it's critical that you turn those cameras off. I can't have you people watching me."

"Any particular reason? Or you just shy?" Rachel made no reply. "Look, Dr. Roth, I respect your knowledge and profession. And I'm sure you wouldn't be making such a weird request unless it somehow made your work easier. But the fact of the matter is that the higher ups like to keep in the loop, if you know what I'm sayin'. And besides that, I'm not sure _I'm_ comfortable with the kind of work that requires the privacy you're asking for. If you can't give me a really solid reason to give you that much free reign, then I'm sorry. I can't help you. What ever it is you think you need to do, you're gonna have to do it with us watching. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Dr. Stone-"

"_If you'll excuse me_, the results from my latest NMR sample are in and I need to prep it for the GCMS."

"What are you analyzing?"

"I'm trying out a new polymer for the chains. But because it's still experimental, I only have so much sample. Have to be conservative, you know?"

"I see." Dr. Stone gave her a courteous nod and turned to leave. "You would want a new one, wouldn't you," she continued pointedly. "After what happened, I think the current batch might be defective. But only one link in every chain. That's odd, isn't it."

"Have a nice day," said Dr. Stone coolly, not looking at her.

"Vic wait," Rachel said, standing up as if to follow him. Her arms dropped to her sides and the slightest hint of desperation came into her voice. "Please, I think we can help each other."

"Dr. Roth, you are not the only scientist with work to do on this project."

"I understand that, and I will try to be brief. We may not share goals or views, but I do believe we have something in common."

"And what might that be," he said, twisting a simple titanium ring on his left pointer finger impatiently.

"My friend, Kori Anders' opinion that personhood shouldn't be a prerequisite for humane treatment."

Just as she thought, he paused, clearly recognizing the name. His dark eyes swept over the room quickly then, finding that any onlookers hastily returned to their work when caught ogling, rolled. He let out a long, low sigh and scooped some files off the desk, packing them together crisply and starting down the hall behind him.

"My office," he said to Rachel. "Now."

She nodded curtly and followed, discouraging any further interest with sharp glares. Vic took long, purposed strides as he led her through the passages until they finally came to a plain door. He swiped his card through the reader by the handle and led her into a cramped office. As head of department, Rachel thought, he'd been gypped. It was smaller than she'd expected, and lit almost entirely by monitors and bits of random technology glowing cyan. Decorations and clutter were nonexistent and Rachel had no trouble finding a seat by the desk. Vic sat down across from her, slipping the files into a low drawer to his left and sighing.

"For someone so smart you sure don't have a clue what's going on here, do you." It was a statement, not a question.

"I'm here to do my job," she replied cryptically. "The rest is not my concern."

"It should be. There's a good bit more than "science" goin' on here and you'd do well to keep out of it." He sighed again, running his hands over his baldhead. "You need to be more careful."

"Once I can guarantee I'm alone with the subject, my work can begin and I will stop poking my nose where it doesn't belong."

"And just what type of work are we talking about? What do you think you're going to accomplish? You're not really gaining my trust with all these secretive demands." He waved his finger in the air to emphasize the word "secretive." Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"My plans for the subject are none of your business."

"The subject," he repeated, a cold edge of accusation sneaking into his otherwise light voice as he placed his hands on the desktop. "You talk about him as if he's not even human."

"Clearly," Rachel said, her voice sharp. "He isn't."

"Remind me how you're different from every other scientist who's poked and prodded him since he arrived? Why should I help you cheat when everyone else has to play by the rules?"

Rachel sat back in her seat. "Do you know what my area of expertise is," she asked calmly.

"Officially," he started, lacing his fingers and leaning on his elbows. "You're a behavioralist, both human and animal, with some background in mutation. So, pretty much perfect for this job. Unofficially, though, you're a demonologist. Now which set of expertise brought you to this God forsaken project, I can only guess. What you should know is that I don't care. You're not the only one with dual intentions."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that officially, I'm head of security. I make sure everything runs as smoothly and safely as possible. And when it doesn't I clean up the mess." Rachel raised her eyebrows defensively, but didn't comment.

"Unofficially, I like the little grass stain. I don't want to see him hurt, do you understand? Kid's had it rough and it won't get any easier, so if there's anything I can do to minimize the number of needles he gets stabbed with, I'm gonna do it."

"I have no intention of stabbing him with any needles," shot Rachel. "Believe it or not, I just want to talk to him."

"Talk to him?" Vic's eyebrows climbed his brow and he nodded slowly as he asked, smiling faintly.

"Yes, talk to him. I need to know what he is and no one knows that better than your Beast Boy himself."

Vic snorted. "You know, he's done a pretty good job of convincing everyone around here that he's little more than an animal in the body of a man. For good reason, I think. You're new around here, but give it a few talks around the water cooler with your sciency colleagues. The things they feel justified in doing to a beast are much kinder than what they'd do to a man."

"I'm not sure you're in any position to judge, _Dr. _Stone."

"Yeah, I am a scientist too. But I'm a technologist, not a researcher. I won't say I'm not involved, but they don't tell me what they're doing with him. I have no input on the experiments or access to their results. I work here, but I _don't_ feel good about it."

Rachel rubbed her brow with one delicate hand. "Then with all due respect," she started cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Because, like you, I'm the best at what I do. They need me here and because of that they're willing to accept that I have my own reasons for coming."

"Which are?" Vic gave an enigmatic smile.

"How much do you know about Beast Boy?"

"No one has been of particular help with respect to that yet. I only know what I've managed to find out for myself."

"So not a lot?"

"No," said Rachel curtly. Vic just grinned again, taking childish pleasure in her annoyance.

"Then we're in similar positions." Vic pulled out a drawer and withdrew a thin, green folder, tipping it in her direction.

"He was brought in by a sketchy woman named Terra Markov, who said she "obtained" him from a lawyer, Nicholas Galtry. She swore he possessed human intelligence, but what with his wild behavior and her less than stellar record with our employers, it was assumed she was just trying to get a better bounty. He's been here for six months and we are no closer to understanding what he is or how he exists. It probably doesn't help that they can't really get near him or obtain samples from anything but his human form. When he's unconscious he reverts. Overall, he really hasn't received the best treatment."

"I care about this because…"

"Because if you're serious about thinking our friend down there is more than an animal, and you're serious about talking to him, you're going to need all the help you can get. The little man's probably got trust issues, justified ones. He's not stupid."

"I never said he was. Look, all I want to do is talk to him. I know he can, he just won't. Not with all you people watching. If he's a person, great, we'll get him a shrink and a teddy bear for all his issues. If not…" She trailed off pointedly, glaring at him. "So, are you going to help me?" Vic laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"I can't turn off the security cameras," he started slowly. Rachel let out a frustrated sigh, looking up imploringly. He held up his hands, as if to calm her down.

"But I can restrict the feed. Make it so that I'm the only one with immediate access and anyone who wants the footage has to go through me."

Rachel regarded him skeptically, the ice in her stare almost chilling the room. Vic stared back stubbornly, still grinning. He liked this chick. Spunk was the wrong word, but she definitely had something. And she wouldn't allow herself to be used like the rest of those researchers, which was a plus. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she let out a low breath.

"Fine," she said slowly, her voice so gravelly it was almost a growl. Vic's grin widened as he leaned back in his chair. Rachel pushed her own back and got up, her face artfully blank. Her fingers rested lightly on the desk edge, grey in the cyan light as she stared him down.

"Fine. When can I start then?"

"You mean when can _we_ start," Vic laughed. Rachel's glare managed to darken and his chuckles sort of puttered out. "Okay, I guess you're not really in a joking mood. I can get this set up tonight, so you should be good to go by tomorrow."

"Thank you." Rachel turned to go, obviously annoyed at the amount of time their little interchange had taken.

"And Dr. Roth," She paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I'm on your side. You _can_ trust me with… whatever you planned on keeping secret. I'm not gonna rat you out to anyone."

Rachel didn't look back nor change her expression. Nothing in her demeanor was altered in the slightest, as if she was little more than a life-like statue carved from white marble, her back straight, her hand resting lightly on the doorframe. Yet somehow, something in the atmosphere shifted around her, and an unspoken phrase wove its way into the air.

'We'll see.'

* * *

**"Why hello friend Raven! This cellular device has informed me you are the initiator of this communication, which is most rare. Please, to what do I owe the pleasure."**

"Hey Kori," answered Rachel tiredly. "I'll be home soon; I'm just waiting for a few documents to be processed. Where are you?"

She could almost hear the blush.

** "Oh, well, currently I am with my male-friend Dick. We are… at his place."** She chewed on the phrase slowly, as if its unfamiliarity had never really faded. **"He has promised to take me to see a cinematic creation, and then we shall venture to the mall of shopping."**

"Not only is Dick Grayson going out in public, but he's taking you to a movie? After the _Prometheus _incident?"

**"I had no idea humanity had such peculiar notions about its origins, nor that such terrifying organisms could exist in this universe. That was truly an unpleasant experience."**

"I don't know, I thought it was a pretty good movie. A couple of plot holes, but they made up for it with some good death. Anyway, it's the shopping part that scares me. Tell Dick he's a braver soul than I and I wish him luck."

**"Rachel wishes to compliment your bravery and grant you good fortune! Though I am not certain as to why."** Rachel could hear a low, gruff voice chuckle on the other end, then say something. **"Dick would like to thank you for your kindness and assure you it shall be necessary. Though, once again, I do not understand why."**

"One of these days I'll try and explain it to you. Right now, though, I need a favor."

**"Truly? Such occasions are indeed uncommon and I shall most assuredly be of assistance! Apologies, my Lorgtharp, but the treasure of friendship must be preserved. You shall wait for me?"**

"Hold on, Kori, it's not that sort of favor. It's more like… advice?"

**"You are… seeking my council, yes?"**

"First off, what is a lorgtharp?"

**"Is it not customary to address one's love as a vegetable?"**

"Sure… Kori, remember when I told you about this snag at work?"

**"You are referring to Beast Boy's refusal to talk while others observe through the cameras?"**

"Yes, well, I've taken care of that bit. Now I need to convince him the cameras are off. Kori, you like people. And besides that, people like you. How do you do it?"

**"Pardon?"**

"How do you make people trust you? I need this Beast Boy to talk to me, but I get the feeling he's not too inclined to just believe everything that comes out of my mouth. I need to convince him of my honesty."

**"You do not wish to hear my advice, friend Rachel."**

"Yes I do, Kori, that's why I called you."

**"Promise you will not become angry with me?"**

"Don't be melodramatic." There was a long sigh and Rachel could visualize that patronizing look Kori always gave her when discussing the proper way to be nice to people. It wasn't that Rachel was incapable of such behaviors; they were just rarely her natural inclination and even less often something that actually occurred to her. This was frustrating to Kori, who didn't seem to know of any other way to treat a stranger.

**"If you wish to win his trust, you must begin by trusting him. If you desire that he think well of you, you must first think well of him."**

"Kori-"

**"Please friend Rachel, if you are truly serious about this, listen to me. It is imperative that you not only tell him the truth, but also prove it to him. Show the environment is safe and he shall come out of hiding like any Bungorf."**

"Kori, there is still a real possibility that he's just a demon lying in wait. I can't afford to let my guard down."

**"That is my advice. I believe that is the only way for you to achieve your goals."**

"_My_ goals, huh? Hey Kori, may I ask you one more thing?" She wouldn't have under normal circumstances, but both the secrecy of this project Kori's Care Bear advice annoyed her. Mostly because she couldn't do anything about the secrets and Kori was right. And annoyance pushed her to recklessness.

**"Certainly."**

"May I please speak to Dick for a moment?" There was a short pause, exchanges muffled by fingers pressed over the mouthpiece, then the shuffle of transferring hands.

**"Hey, Rachel; I don't think we've ever officially spoken. Hi, I'm Richard Grayson and I've been dating your roommate for several years now. It's good to finally talk to you."**

"Hello, Mr. Grayson," Rachel said coolly. "I met the most interesting man today, perhaps you know him? Dr. Victor Stone?" Silence. "He told me there's more going on with this project than I've been told. That I'm involved in something bigger and needed to be careful. So, I was wondering, as the one who got me this job, is there anything _you'd_ like me to do while I'm with the subject."

There was a high _beep_ and the line went dead.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

**Author's Note: As we get deeper into the story, I've begun to feel like I'm pushing things a little. Pushing in the sense that, given the situation and a history without the Titans, the characters seem more inclined to mind their own business than bond. We should get over the resistive hump soon though. Anyway, I would very much like to hear what you, the readers, think. Opinions, speculations, "dear lord, what are you doing"s. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans and am making no profit. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

"How would you like to proceed, Monsieur Cerveau?"

"Tell me, do you believe this will impede our operation in any way?"

"It will make observing the subject more difficult; however, if it's still our intention to use Dr. Roth's work and better control the creature, then such observations should not be necessary. We would only require access to her reports."

"That is the very conclusion at which I arrived. Dr. Roth is a clever and resourceful woman. She will complete the assignment. Whether or not it is on our terms is our choice. We must provide her with a suitable environment."

"Shall I arrange access to her notes?"

"That will not be necessary. Dr. Stone is a gifted programmer but his encryption skills are still lacking. I can access those files at my leisure. Once the subject shows his weaknesses, we can move in on all of them. Remove them from the board before their pieces are set."

"Dr. Roth still believes the subject to be some sort of demon. Shall I take steps to show her otherwise?"

"On the contrary, we must foster its demonic image for as long as possible. Dr. Roth's obsession with demons and their knowledge shall be our most potent weapon. Her relentless pursuit of the supernatural will reveal the truth of this creature. Through her, we can circumvent its act."

"Should she succeed in establishing a dialogue, she will quickly discover the truth. Besides it's ability, that creature has no demonic traits."

"Then we shall give it those traits. Whatever it takes to keep her interest."

"Forgive me, but I don't see the need for this deception. If we wanted his trust, Terra Markov had it."

"Terra Markov lost that creature's trust the moment she heard we were looking for meta-humans. She traded it for her own freedom. She is no longer a pawn on this board. No, her self-interest brought us a specimen with great potential, but it has also left us with an unknown. Her intelligence cannot be trusted.

"Dr. Roth, however, is nothing if not objective and thorough. Her evaluations will be accurate. She will tell us what he is, where he's weak, and what he's capable of. She will tell us how to make the perfect weapon."

"And if they both have more humanity than we've anticipated?"

"So much the better. As you know, man is by far the most deadly of beasts."

"So it is your intention to continue using Dr. Roth?"

"Indeed."

"As you wish. I should tell you, then, that May Bennett is becoming impatient."

"Ah, yes, the good woman from the Church of Blood."

"She wants confirmation of Dr. Roth."

"She will have it soon, I suspect. Dr. Roth's options for gaining that creature's trust in the time frame she desires are limited. Her personality is extreme and decisive. I have no doubt she will try to exploit their similarities. It was for that reason I recruited her."

"Similarities?"

"Aside from their special talents, which are superficial at best, these two are what could be called kindred spirits. They will understand each other. Their common rage will be their undoing."

* * *

Rachel was becoming very accustomed to this location. For the second time in as many days, she stood outside Beast Boy's cell, flash drive in hand. The difference was that this time, it was her own copy. Her own personal key to be used whenever she so desired. She hadn't even needed to request it; the guard had just seen her coming and thrown it at her before she'd even had a chance to explain the new situation. He'd tersely told her she had been granted unlimited access to the restricted subject and would no longer need to run her visits by him. Between herself and Dr. Stone, Rachel figured he was quite tired with the logistics and accepted his offer graciously.

She hadn't had the energy to rub it in his face anyway; the previous night had been restless. Kori had not made it home, nor had she called, which was not irregular when her feathers were ruffled. Dick had no doubt taken some offense at her none-too-subtle accusations, which was of no consequence to Rachel. Let him be angry or embarrassed or whatever it took to push him out of his cover. She had no intention of abandoning ship just yet, but wanted to know the full extent of this project and her own involvement. She wanted to let "Them" know she was no pawn, and since Dick was clearly one of "Them," or at least involved with "Them," he was sure to pass on the message. Rachel was sorry that the cost was Kori's good faith. The action had been necessary to rock the boat, but that was of little comfort as she'd tried to sleep with one ear open.

All she'd wanted yesterday and this morning was to get to work. To get away from the still apartment and the impending doom. Then, once she'd made it to work, all she'd wanted to do was ignore the mountain of paperwork and social calls on her newly assigned desk. She'd spent hours trying desperately to look relaxed and unhurried, pining for the chance to speak with the subject. Hating the official nature of her position. Now that she was finally outside the cell, and unanticipated nervousness seethed in her gut. Kori would be home tonight and the price for Rachel's treachery would be decided upon.

This left her with two options: continue the spree of accusation, throw her one friend in with "Them," and clam up, or try her best to cook Kori's favorite, a delicacy known as Glorg that Rachel personally found truly awful, and share the fruit of her newly formed confidence with "Beast Boy." The second, though much better for her friendship, required an actual confidence with "Beast Boy." And forging a confidence was just a fancy way of gaining trust, and "gaining trust" was just a fancy way of saying "taking Kori's advice." Which meant doing something drastic and very, very dangerous.

Rachel knew Kori was right. She knew most relationships had to be founded on honesty. She knew the currency of secrets was secrets. She knew Kori had been more than understanding of her own reluctance to follow these rules and thus made do with the minute details Rachel sometimes slipped when she was relaxed. She knew eventually Kori's patience would run out and she'd be left with the choice she now faced. There would be nothing left for her but the question: could she afford to make herself vulnerable? It was a question she'd asked and answered many times before, and would probably continue to ask and answer many times in the future. For normal people, she often though, it must be hard enough. But for Rachel… the option seemed impossible. No, she could not afford to make herself vulnerable, least of all to an unknown changeling who might be a demon himself. She could never afford that.

The flip side, which she had only begun to consider after Dick had hung up on her, was could she afford not to? Could she afford _not _to win this creature's trust? Could she afford to just walk away? That answer was clearly a "yes." She'd done it many times before. Backed out when the leads became too sketchy, ran away when she even dreamed she'd left a scent. It wouldn't be hard, just turn around and leave. Disappear, like she always had, into the gloom. Yet something stopped her. Perhaps it was her bond to Kori, perhaps it was the feeling that she was onto something big. Perhaps it was just fatigue, or desperation, or the hunger for freedom finally getting to her. Maybe it was even her own humanity, crying for the poor creature trapped behind these walls, terrified of the idea that he might actually be a man. Maybe she didn't appreciate being jerked around and, for once in her life, she just wanted the truth.

What was it Kori had said? Trust your instinct? What ridiculous advice; how could she trust such chaos? How could she willingly do what had to be done, knowing its danger? How could she remain on board this sinking ship when the logic that preserved her very existence begged to abandon it? And still…

"Damn it, Kori," she hissed under her breath, shoving the flash drive into its port a little more roughly than was really necessary. "One of these days you're going to get me caught, I just know it."

The door ground open and she slid in briskly. Her shoes were once again flat, her black pants and smooth blouse allowing for a silent entrance. The changeling had stretched the chains out as far as they would go and was leaning against the opposite wall. His expression was artfully bored, but not quite enough to conceal the alert wariness in his eyes. He watched her like a cat, ready to bolt. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his arms rested across his stomach in a deceptively relaxed way.

Rachel advanced, clearing her throat. He sprang to his feet, then crumpled back into a crouch. His palms pressed against the cold floor, fingers tense. With an exasperated sigh, Rachel fished around in her pocket, pulling out something that looked rather like a video game controller. Beast Boy clearly recognized it, flaring his nostrils in dislike even as his pupils dilated in fear.

"They gave me this incase you decided to take advantage of the situation," she said, holding it up in one hand. Her grip was delicate, as if the object was somehow dirty, her fingertips just barely pressing against its surface. "I told them it wouldn't be necessary; I was confident in my ability to deal with you. Which I am. So why don't we skip the dramatics and you just walk over here like a normal person."

He frowned at that, pushing his mouth off to one side. She let out another sigh and started to walk over to him. A low growl began in his chest as he barred his fangs, maneuvering away from her as best he could. Rachel raised her eyebrows at him and hit a button on the controller with her thumb. The chains around his limbs suddenly grew taught, threatening to pull him back to the center. He froze, the rumble dying in his throat.

"Don't play games with me, I don't have time for it. I'm here to talk, just like yesterday. But this time the cameras are off, so there's no excuse for these antics."

He let out something that could have been either a bark or a laugh, depending on your mindset, and tugged at his chains. There was a look in his green eyes that clearly said: 'Please, how dumb do you think I am?'

"I'm not lying to you; the cameras are off."

Another laugh.

"Fine," she shot coolly, steeling herself for what had to come next. "I expected this, and I'm prepared to prove it to you. But if there is even the slightest negative consequence to this action, then so help me Azar I will teach you pain the likes of which you have never known."

Her threat was met with probably the most disbelieving expression she had ever seen. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth grinned, but his eyes were dead. She could feel it in the air: 'This aught'a be good.'

She swallowed, setting the controller slowly on the ground and then kicking it towards the door. Beast Boy's eyes followed it keenly, but he knew better than to go after it. If the cameras really were off, then that was a different story, but for the time being… His eyes snapped back to Rachel as she moved to stand up, her hands now at her collar.

"What you're about to see," she started calmly as her fingers found the buttons of her blouse. "Is not revealed lightly. Few who've seen it live to talk about it. Got it?"

Beast Boy's eyes widened as she began to undo those buttons and he lurched away, falling onto his tailbone. The pain only made him hasten his retreat, a blush rising up his neck to his cheeks and ears. Rachel rolled her eyes and advanced, pulling the blouse open to expose her neck and sternum. He looked away, becoming suddenly very interested in the floor.

"Well, this at least proves you're a man," she said unenthusiastically. "Unfortunately for you, you're not that lucky." Her fingers fumbled with something behind her neck as she squatted down in front of him. "Hold out your hand."

"Look lady," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I don't know who you are, but I do _not_ think this is appropriate."

"Like most men, your mind jumps into the gutter first chance it gets. I'm not sure if I'm offended or flattered."

He made a low choking noise in the back of his throat, expressing his discomfort. "You start taking off your shirt and _I_ have the gutter-brain?"

"Please, I'm not that desperate to get you talking. If you'd look at me, you'd notice I'm still very clothed." His staring contest with the ground intensified. "I seriously question the women in your life."

"What would you know about it," he hissed, his mouth barely moving.

"Are we talking now?" Silence. "Do you believe that the cameras are off?" He pursed his lips and shook his head, still refusing to look at her. There was a low _click_ and he flinched. "Look, I'm not enjoying this any more than you. It's very dangerous for me, do you understand? But I need you to talk, so I'm going to prove that if it's safe for me, it's safe for you."

"No such thing."

"Hold out your hand." His hands tensed and his jaw locked. "Listen, I may not be your friend, but you can at least speak freely with me. I'm not leaving until you understand that. Believe me, if there was a better way to prove it that's what I'd be doing. But I don't have time to patronize you and I need to speak with you. So, as painful as it is, I'm trusting you. The least you can do is let me finish."

Reluctantly, Beast Boy closed his eyes and held out one hand. He felt her take it and press something hard and smooth into his palm. No, not smooth. There were ridges at its center and rings of small bumps around its edge. His eyes snapped open and he looked at it, then up at her. Rachel's eyes met his and she frowned at him, releasing a beaded chain and stepping back in one fluid motion.

Whatever he'd been expecting or might have expected, it was nothing like what he actually saw. There was no flash, no light, no sound or wind. Her skin was just suddenly read and her eyes suddenly glowing yellow. A second set opened on her forehead and her black hair fell wild to the ground. Delicate fingers were now demonic claws, her face contorted with rage and hunger, and for the briefest of moments he thought she was going to attack him.

Then, as quickly as it had come, this new scientist faded back to herself. But not quite. Pale skin was still pale, but grayish instead of peach. There was only one set of eyes again, and they didn't glow, but they were definitely violet. Like her hair, which was back to chin length, straight and groomed. Her hands were soft once more, her face solemn. A red gem glinted just above the spot between her eyes on her brow and his skin tingled as if in an electric storm.

"Not what you were expecting," she said bitterly. "Is it."

"What are you," he gasped, more concerned with the woman less than a foot from him than any consequences associated with speech. "Some kind of… witch?"

She snorted in amusement, blinking at him. Her expression did not change.

"Yes, I suppose you could call me that. I've certainly studied enough magic. But that's not what you want to ask. You're wondering if I'm even human."

He neither confirmed nor denied her statement, his wide eyes betraying little besides wonder and fear. Rachel folded her arms and let one hip jut out to the side.

"The answer is, I imagine, a lot like yours would be if asked the same question. Not really. I'm half demon," she said calmly. "That amulet was specifically designed to repress that fact. The gem's blue chalcedony, engraved with a demonic ward, and the beads are black obsidian. Each stone has its function, but the overall effect is to absorb my demonic nature and contain it. With the amulet removed, that side of me is expressed and I revert to my… natural state."

Beast Boy looked at her, then down to the necklace in his hand. The central gem was ovular and dark periwinkle, engraved with some kind of writing he didn't recognize. The marks were sharp though, curving into points like daggers. Aggressive. The beading encased the central gem and formed a long, thick ribbon that served as the chain. He stared at it, then moved his gaze back to her. She just stared back, expressionless.

"What's that," he finally asked as curiosity overcame shock and caution, gesturing to the gem on her forehead.

"This is cinnabar stone. It allows me to focus my Ajna chakra, the third eye."

He gave her a dumb look and she sighed, relaxing her shoulders and looking up.

"It helps me channel what would otherwise be demonic power into psychic ability."

He blinked at her again. She felt her eyeballs might actually become tired from rolling and held out her hand. Black energy enveloped the necklace in Beast Boy's hand, causing him to yelp and flinch back, rolling to his feet and tensing.

"Why do you always think I'm going to hurt you," she asked as the amulet came to a rest in her hand and her appearance faded back to its disguise.

"Because everyone does," he said earnestly. "No mater where I go or what I do, that's just what happens. Especially here."

"Well, that's not my intention," Rachel said in a low voice, fastening the amulet back around her neck. His demeanor changed abruptly, shifting from quiet bewilderment to anger in an instant. As if he suddenly remembered who and where they were.

"Of course it is! You work for them, right? They brought you here for some reason or another and that can only be bad for me! Well I'm not falling for it. You're not going to blow my cover. I've survived the other "doctors" and I'll survive you. Demon or not."

"Somehow, I doubt it's your survival you should be concerned with. Clearly they want you alive. Besides, I had one goal in coming down here today and I've accomplished that goal."

He scowled then, comprehending, smacked himself in the head and groaned. She almost grinned, amused by the dramatics.

"You're right, they did bring me here, but that does not mean I work for them. It's as dangerous here for me as it is for you, what I've just shown you should prove that. The difference between us is that I haven't been caught yet."

"Just as dangerous, huh," he scoffed, folding his arms and giving her perhaps the most sarcastic smile she'd ever seen. "Sorry if I'm a little out of the loop, it's hard to get good news from _inside a cage_. Any way, you don't know what you're talking about. You may be magical or whatever, but you're not like me. No one is."

"And just what makes you so special?"

"Something about my genetic code. It's unstable so… I don't know. I don't understand most of what they say and honestly I'm not always conscious when they say it."

"Were you born like this?"

"No, I was not. I came out as human as the rest of them!"

"Then how did you get your abilities?"

"My-" His voice cut of as the muscles in his throat constricted around the words. He narrowed his eyes, as if assessing her. Then, unexpectedly, he pointed at her and grinned. "Wait. I see what you're doing. They haven't found anything in my blood, have they? They can't figure out what happened, so they sent you down here to be all pretty and scary and get me to talk! Well, I won't do it! You can just leave; I'm not helping you."

"I'm not asking for your help, I just want information. I told you, I'm not here to be your friend or theirs. Answer my questions and I will leave, forever, and they'll never hear about it."

"Why do you even care? If you're not working for them, then why are you here?"

"I have my reasons."

"I'm not stupid! I might not be the smartest thing around, but don't treat me like I'm some sort of dumb animal! Maybe you've convinced me the cameras are off, but there is no way you can prove to me you're not working for them."

"You're right. That's why I'm asking you to trust me."

"Sure, 'cause that's worked out so well for me in the past."

"Look, even if I wanted to, I couldn't work for them. It's too permanent, too high profile. If they actually knew what I was doing or how I was doing it, they'd throw me in here _with_ you. Or worse, they'd expose me. If you believe nothing else, believe that I _don't_ want that to happen. Now, I'm trusting you. I've told you things my best friend doesn't even know about me. The least you can do is answer my question. Where did you get your powers?"

"I don't see it that way," he said icily, folding his arms. The chains around his wrists rattled angrily, voicing the mood. "I figure, if I'm going to tell you anything about myself, I have a right to know why you care so much. If you're risking what you say you're risking, then why? You can just get in line and tell me why _I'm_ so damn important."

Rachel seethed, her glare so intense it was like she'd grabbed him by the throat. He held his ground, glaring back at her with equal force. If he really was a demon, which she was sure any creature so annoying had to be, then smoking him out would not be effective. Most demons under cover leapt at the opportunity to feed her some bogus story about how they'd fallen into toxic waste or been hit with alien guts or whatever. Anything to make their unnatural abilities seem innocent. When cornered, they were usually eager to trust, to extend needy hands then pull any accepting Good Samaritan down with them. Or simply stab them in the back later.

Powerful demons, though… They behaved differently, discretely. They would not leap into exposure at the first pitfall. They tended to fight back, to shoo her away. It was hard to imagine one being caught like this unless that was its intention. But given such a circumstance, she imagined it would be evasive and stressed. A powerful demon out in the world took a lot of hunting and subtlety. However, if trapped, it may respond better to a frontal assault. The longer she spent debating, the more dangerous the situation became. She was prepared for a fight, if it came to that, but out-maneuvering the beast was always preferable. If this was indeed a demon, and their friendly discussion turned violent, she wanted to make the first move.

"All right," she hissed. "You want to know what my angle is, fine, I'll tell you. I'm a demon hunter."

"That doesn't make any sense! If you're a demon, why would you hunt them? Aren't they, like, your buddies or something?"

"_Half _-demon," she corrected sharply. "And from what I've heard, your abilities make you very suspicious. So I will ask you one more time: Where did you get your powers?"

Beast Boy continued to scowl at her for a moment as the statement sank in. Then, as if he suddenly understood what she was implying, his body changed. He didn't tense or become nervous or anything like she'd expected. Instead, he dropped his arms and his face became slack, as if defeated. He looked… hurt.

"So that's it? That's what this is about? You heard about me through some channel or another and figured if I had this power, I must be evil?"

"In my experience," she shot back, still waiting for an attack. "Only demons have super-human abilities and they are used for the sole purpose of spreading destruction and misery."

"Then your experience must be really limited, huh," he said in a low voice, his chin jutting out proudly as he stared down his nose. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't respond. "I'm not a demon, I'm a person. My name is Garfield Mark Logan. Look it up."

* * *

Vic wasn't what you would call rigid. Did he run a tight office? Yes. Did he expect things to get done correctly and efficiently? Yes. Did he, on occasion, make some of the less experienced technicians cry when they made ignorant critiques of his technology? Maybe. But when there was a legitimate problem, he took all the relevant information into account. When someone was having a hard time, he did his best to balance the needs of the project with those of the person. And when someone came to him with a complaint or request, Vic liked to think he was pretty chill.

So, when Rachel came bursting into his office looking about ready to spit daggers, Vic took it in pretty well.

"Hey, what's shakin' Dr. Roth," he asked in a friendly voice, picking up a simple steel briefcase. He was about ready to leave for the night, but there was always time for a friendly chat between colleagues.

"What did you see," she demanded, completely ignoring the relaxed tenor of his voice and jumping straight into action.

"Hey, hold on," he said defensively, replacing the case on the chair and rounding on her. "I don't know about where you're from, but around here it's customary to start conversations with a greeting. 'How's it going?' or maybe 'Sup?' You know, something like that."

"Hello. Now what did you see?" Vic sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

Rachel exhaled audibly through her nose, placing one hand on the back of the visitor's chair. Her other hand found her hip and both sets of fingers coiled around their object dangerously. She looked pointedly at the wall to her right, collecting herself. Vic watched her with raised eyebrows. As the silence continued, he leaned closer, looking this way and that as if they were conducting some sort of secret exchange. It was a playful gesture that Rachel could have either classified as endearing or annoying. Clenching her jaw, she turned back to him.

"On the cameras," she hissed without moving her mouth. "What did you see on the cameras?"

"Oh that," said Vic, picking up his briefcase again and swinging it over his shoulder. "I wasn't watching those cameras. I've been super busy on a new project and figured you could take care of yourself."

Rachel cocked a skeptical eyebrow. Vic grinned back at her innocently.

"But if I had been," he said just as she was turning to leave. "I'd probably give you the 'Insensitivity' award for the day."

She froze, then turned on him like an aggravated cat, eyes burning. Her mouth was working to produce an insult that sufficiently expressed her distaste for these sorts of games. Vic held up his free hand to hold her at bay… or perhaps to signal surrender, Rachel wasn't sure.

"Just tryin' to be honest," he muttered, which was 'just tryin' to be honest,' but it sounded a little like 'sheesh, girl, control your temper; we're in public.' Rachel was not amused. "So, I take it things didn't go as planned?"

"What is it you think you know," she spat, ignoring his remarks. There was a pause.

"You know what I just realized," he said in a light voice, fishing around in his pocket and withdrawing a small ring of keys. "It's really late and you've missed the shuttle back to down-town."

Rachel glowered at him, the annoyance she kept out of her face and body seeping into the room like a fog.

"So," Vic continued, ignoring the danger. "How about I give you a ride back to your place and we can talk in my car."

"You're hilarious," she responded in a monotone, folding her arms.

"Thanks, I try. But I'm also pretty serious; you literally have no other option besides spending the night. And trust me, that's sort of frowned on around here."

"You don't know where I live," Rachel snorted, her jaw still rigid.

"Please, don't insult me. What kind of head of security would I be if I couldn't look up a simple address?" Rachel continued to frown. "Come on, I'm not some creeper who's out to get you. And even if I was, we both know you're more than capable of defending yourself."

"Fine," Rachel growled. "But if I think for one second that you're trying to trick me, you will know pain the likes of which you've never experienced, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, boss," said Vic with a gin, patting the air as if to sweep away her worries. "I get it."


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

**Author's Note: So funny story. I had this mostly completed about a week after the last chapter was posted, but was sitting on it because I felt like it dragged a bit too much. Then my little computer, rest his digital soul, forgot it had an operating system and hard drive. Luckily, it was a connection issue this time and not the drive itself, so I was able to recover the data… like, a month later. So here we are. I've obtained a brand spanking new laptop so we don't add a fourth crash to this years list of misfortunes and decided I do like this chapter. Maybe it does drag a bit, but it's time we get a little of the exposition out of the way. A little late, but hey, at least I didn't have to rewrite it!**

**Disclaimer: Teen Titans does not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I really hope I never get in trouble for some of my previous, snarky disclaimers…**

* * *

Kori sat with her back rigidly straight, as if there was some kind of pole strapped to her spine. An immovable, unbendable pole of steel betrayal. Her hands were wrapped daintily around a mug of steaming liquid, which were in turn held daintily between her knees. Her face held no expression, her eyes dry and unblinking. It was a position she'd assumed before, and would doubtlessly do again in the future, for the emotional turmoil that brought her to this point was not uncommon. In a world such as theirs, it couldn't be uncommon. Dick knew how she felt because, unfortunately, he'd seen her like this before. The rage and sadness she kept from her face and voice was all too evident in the uncharacteristic ice of her mannerisms. She wouldn't speak unless prompted, and even then only the barest amount.

"I couldn't find any zorka berries, but there were some fresh strawberries down at the market," he offered kindly, coaxing her out of the silence.

"Thank you, friend Richard," she responded without looking at him. "You are most generous."

He sighed, dropping his shoulders and staring imploringly up at the ceiling for a moment. In his humble opinion as Batman's first Robin, Nightwing, and occasional stand-in for the Dark Knight himself, Dick felt there was no torture like having to endure Kori when she was like this. There was just no pleasing her.

"Your coco's getting cold," he tried again, setting the bowl of berries on the coffee table and brushing his fingers against the mug. Once again, she didn't move.

"I judge it to remain sufficiently heated."

"Starfire…"

"Yes Richard?"

"You've been sulking for hours. Twenty-four to be exact. Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"You know full well what is wrong."

"If this is about Rachel-"

"Of course it is about Rachel," she snapped, glaring at him. Her green eyes caught in the halogen light of his… place, glittering like polished jade. "She has betrayed my trust, but is it truly any wonder? We ask much without even allowing her the opportunity to do the same. It is not right."

"Star, I know you're upset, but we've been over this. We all decided-"

"_You_ decided."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Tense minutes that felt like years. Dick ran his fingers through his artfully messed black hair, disturbing the gel that held it in place. His light blue eyes swept this way and that, as if looking for a quick resolution to what had proven to be an enduring problem.

"Listen," he said in a gentle but firm voice. "I know Rachel's your friend and she would never do anything to hurt you." She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. "Physically. But the fact remains that, in this instance, she's an unknown. We don't know how she'd react to our plan."

"We could simply ask her," said Kori in a sharp voice. "She is like us, I know she is. If we merely explained ourselves and our mission I believe she would gladly assist us."

"Star, you and I both know there's more to this than ability and desire. Something's hunting Rachel as diligently as she hunts demons. Maybe she wants to do good. Maybe she'd like to join us. But we _can't_ risk telling her until we _know_ she does."

Kori ran her thumbs up and down the mug handle, noting the smoothness of the glaze. Her auburn hair slipped over her golden shoulders like silken sheets, the small, decorative braids catching the light as they moved. Dick desperately wanted to brush it out of her face, though he knew such contact was unwelcome. He wanted to gaze into her green eyes and wonder how the universe could have produced such beauty and kindness. In a safer world, with a less delicate mission, he would have told Rachel everything, right down to his favorite color, merely to please Kori. If they were any other two people, he would have given her the moon and stars.

"I have placed my friend in danger," she whispered after a long pause. "I put her in harms way for a stranger I have never met. Involved her in a plot I believe to be moral, but still nonetheless a plot. As if my belief we are doing the right thing somehow justifies using her in this way. It does not."

"I don't like it either, but the fact of the matter is we need Rachel. She was going to take this job, with or without our interference."

"You do not know that," Kori snapped in a low voice, avoiding his eyes. "She might have refused their offer if we hadn't pushed her. If she hadn't believed it was a recommended by a friend."

"They've had their sites set on her since the project began and she was going to help them whether she wanted to or not. Ever since the Brotherhood hooked up with that creepy cult that's the only part of their plan we can be certain of. That's why we got Vic in there, that's why we set you up in an apartment with her. Whatever they're up to, the keys have always been Beast Boy and Rachel Roth. You've known that."

Kori took a moment to absorb, closing her eyes and dropping her chin in resignation. Yes, she knew. She knew full well why they needed Rachel, why she was in the position she was in. She knew it was better for Rachel to have a team behind her, even if she didn't know about it, than to leave her alone. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling her friend's involvement was somehow her fault. That by inserting herself into the situation, as Dick had instructed, she had somehow brought her friend misfortune. And, her fault or no, there was much misfortune in store for Rachel Roth. Above all else, Kori knew that.

"I do not approve," she said finally, raising her head and directly looking at Dick for the first time in hours. Not through him, as she was prone to do when she was in a funk, but right at him, into his eyes. "However, such is the way of things and it does no one any good to fret about it in this manner. I am sorry, Dick."

Her voice, though still serious, regained some of it's light hearted nature and her face lost a little of its rigidity. It was a sudden and jarring, though welcome, change of mood. Dick let out a long sigh, releasing some of the tension that had been building between his shoulder blades since Rachel's call.

"I am still angry with you for confining me in this scheme of yours," she continued sternly. "And with friend Rachel, for disclosing her knowledge of Vic when I specifically asked her not to."

"You do understand why it has to be this way," probed Dick gently, not wanting to push her right back into depression. "Star, you know I don't like to be the bad guy, but if you're planning on telling Rachel any thing else about our plan-"

"You would do nothing to stop me," she finished firmly, abandoning the cold coco on the table and standing up. Her hair flowed like mist in the still air, her eyes catching the light like gems. He followed suit, but slowly, gauging her reaction. "Because, though you may doubt my friend, you trust my judgment in these matters."

"Starfire-" She turned, cupping his face in her hands and smiling. Kori was a tall woman, just a little taller than Dick himself, and strong. It was a point of contention between himself and many of his male friends, who found it amusingly ironic that the epitome of manliness Dick Grayson was in love with a woman who was not only noticeably taller than him, but could probably throw him across the room with her little finger. A little part of him had to agree with his buddies. She didn't know, but it always made him uncomfortable whenever she did something like this.

"It saddens me greatly, but I do understand why this secret must be kept. I understand this plan, Beast Boy and the future of Jump, is bigger than my friendship and even my life. So I shall continue to do my part, even though my heart aches. However-"

Dick groaned, his brow furrowing. Of course there was a catch; there was always a catch. These epiphanies that brought her back from the realm of the spiritually dead always involved compromise. Usually on his part.

"What you must understand is that these pieces in your game are people, with hearts and dreams of their own."

"I know that."

"No Dick." She shook her head slowly, a small smile twisting her lips. Her hands fell from his face, but not entirely away from him. She laced her fingers with his and gave them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"You do not. You believe in facts and histories, in what you can see and touch. By those things you are correct to be wary of Rachel. She is an unknown, a non-human like me, but unlike me, without a past you've been able to discover. Her associations are with demons and, worst of all, our enemies desire her aid. I am not so blinded by friendship that I've failed to see she is dangerous, to myself and to our plans."

"Then why are you so ready to give her all the details of our operation," said Dick, exasperated. He pulled their linked hands up and pressed them to his chest, giving her a hard look. "Why would you risk everything, if you know how dangerous it is?"

For a second, her gaze faltered, sliding to their entwined fingers. She leaned her head forward, resting her brow on his shoulder and sighing.

"Because Rachel is a lie," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "Just like "Kori" and "Cyborg" and "Beast Boy." Even "Dick Grayson," to a certain extent, is a lie, created and released to protect a much more delicate truth. Right, Robin?"

He stiffened at the name and instinctively swept the room for anyone who might have heard. "Star," he whispered urgently. "I told you never to call me that when I'm out of uniform."

"We are fighting so that one day such percussions will be unnecessary," she continued, ignoring him. "I believe in that goal. Yet if we want the world to respect the truth of our own existences, then we must first appreciate the truth of each other. _Raven_ is my friend and I trust her completely. Which is why I'm going to go home now and tell her that we are not the enemy she's found in our plot.

"I love you Robin, but more than that I respect you as our leader. For that reason alone, I will leave out our plans and objectives until you see fit to reveal them."

Kori lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes overflowing with all the softness of a doe, yet the intent of a hawk. A small smile curved her lips as she tilted her head, silently confirming his understanding. Dick tried his best to give her a stern, disapproving glare, but all that came out was a sigh and a slight roll of the eyes.

"Damn it Star." He never could say no to that face.

Her grin widened and she leaned forward, planting a light peck on the tip of his nose. Dick's serious mouth found itself smiling back as he inhaled her sweet scent. He maneuvered his face up, catching her still puckered lips with his own. They were warm and soft… and tasted almost like strawberries.

* * *

They spent the first half-hour of the drive admiring Dr. Stone's car. Or, more accurately put, Vic spent the first half-hour of the drive explaining why his car was the best vehicle ever created. He'd built it himself, designed it from the wheels up, and this was reflected in its rather unique appearance. It was sleek and bore a striking resemblance to a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro on the outside. The inside was… distinctive. Like much of Dr. Stone's technology, in was silver in color and glowing cyan. Rachel half wondered how he'd managed to keep such a creation to himself. Then again, Vic seemed quite well adapted to the game of secrets in which she found herself. He was probably capable of much more than she gave him credit.

"Really though, the magic is in the body. You can add all the toys you want but if the body can't handle it, then your baby'll never have soul."

"As fascinating as that is," Rachel interrupted as he prepared to start up again. "I did accept your offer for reasons beyond learning about your car."

Dr. Stone gave her probably the most offended look she'd ever received. She looked pointedly out the window and picked her next words carefully. For better or worse, she'd dived headlong into this cloak and dagger mess, and so far she'd done too little strategizing and too much aggravating. Made too few connections. Goodness knew her little outburst at Mr. Grayson earlier had proven that. If Beast Boy's claims were true, then she was on her way out. And for that, she'd need a friend. Rachel was beginning to understand this hunt was different. It wasn't something she could just walk away from.

"You were correct before. Whether I like it or not to be involved in this project is to be involved with the associated politics. And now, it seems, I am more involved than I would have liked."

Silence.

"Your car is very impressive."

"Glad you see reason," Dr. Stone said, his tone retaining only a hint of terseness. "So, you want to know what I've deduced from your little heart-to-heart with our resident shape shifter."

"Among other things. Primarily, I want to know if I'm safe with you. That my… heritage will remain secret."

"If you wanted that kept quiet, maybe announcing it in a spectacular display wasn't the best plan."

She shot him a glare that could freeze oil.

"I needed the changeling to understand my purpose," she said in a controlled monotone. "I had to show him in no uncertain terms that not being on his side didn't put me on yours."

"Mine? You think _I_ have any more say about what goes on here than you do? Shows what you know."

"Honestly I didn't think it'd be much of a problem," she spat back with a snort. "If he was a demon I'd have flushed him out and if you were watching… well. Most humans are easily made to forget undesirable things."

"I have to agree with you there. _Most _humans don't have the most reliable of memories. Computers, though..." His voice held a slightly out of place cryptic note and he stared strait at the road, almost lost in thought. She cleared her throat.

"Look, I've known things about Beast Boy since before he arrived at the lab that our employers would find particularly useful. But somehow they're still in the dark about that, even after all these months. If his secrets are safe, then you can probably assume yours are too."

"What secrets," Rachel probed.

"Hey, come on Dr. Roth," he laughed. "After all that fuss about me not blabbing on you?"

"It's not something to joke about."

"I don't know; I found it kind of ironic. A half-demon demon hunter out accusing people of being demons. Pot calling the kettle black sort of thing."

"You're not the slightest bit disturbed? You're not afraid? Or at least skeptical?" Her voice had become defensive, almost venomous. It was a question meant for the world, not just Dr. Stone. He shrugged his response.

"I get this is hard for you to believe, but I don't actually have a problem with people like you. Or Beast Boy, for that matter."

She gave him a very long, hard look. Disbelieving and bewildered. "I'm a demon," she said slowly, patronizing him like a child. "I'm evil by default."

"From what I heard," Vic shot back, equally patronizing. "You're half demon. Besides, evil's not something you're born with. It's something you choose."

"I disagree. But that is not the point of this little rendez-vous."

"Your secret's safe with me, Dr. Roth, but it's gonna cost you."

She let out a long sigh, her head falling back into the cushion imploringly.

"Of course it is."

"It's not what you're thinking," Vic shot back defensively, giving her a sideways pout. "Seriously, it his more to do with Beast Boy than either you or me. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said you got the Heartless award for the day. And that's really saying something in a lab full of cut-throats."

"Sorry, I missed the class on coddling suspected demons."

"You really still think he's a demon?"

Rachel ran the tip of her tongue along the edge of her teeth thoughtfully. Vic regarded her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the urge to prod further.

"His powers aren't natural," she said in a low voice, not looking at him. "Though he certainly doesn't act like any demon I've ever met."

"That would probably be because he's not."

"Your years of hunting demons tell you that?"

"I'm gonna choose to ignore that last comment. I'm not here to argue with you."

"Good job."

"I'm here," he continued, his voice a little more forced than was probably necessary. "Try and help you."

"Help me with what," she snapped, rounding on him like an enraged serpent. "Help me _do_ what, exactly? I came here for one reason: to investigate the possibility of a powerful demon in Jump. An opportunity fell in my lap and I took it. Yet the longer I'm here, the more hollow that rings. I thought I came by my own will for my own reasons. I thought I'd be making my own choices, but the deeper I get, the more I'm funneled down a road not of my own choosing.

"You're probably right; there is no demon. There never was. I was baited into this job and I have no plans of staying here until the trap closes. You can tell Dick Grayson or whoever it is you work for that I am no puppet to be tugged around by strings."

Her voice was cold, her words sharp and articulate. If they hadn't been going about 85 mph down a highway, she probably would have taken the opportunity to make a dramatic exit. Vic let out an exasperated sigh.

"Let me rephrase," he said in his best calming voice. "I'm here to help you help Beast Boy."

"And why would I care what happens to him? Why would I risk staying here trying to help him?"

"Because you still have some scrap of humanity left in you," Vic snapped back, loosing his cool for the first time. His words hit her like a whip of fire, burning a nerve she thought long since severed. "Because you have some notion of compassion? Because any moron with their eyes open can see the poor kid is suffering? Or maybe just because you're the only one who actually _can_ help!"

There was another awkward pause.

"He's not a child," she finally said, looking down into her lap.

"Physically he's about 27. That doesn't make him not a kid. After what he's been though, he shouldn't be able to trust at all. But all you have to do is look into those big green eyes of his to know he's still as stupid and naïve as any teenager. In that respect, he's the most dangerous thing you'll ever meet."

"Is _that_ why I'm here? You want me to be his friend? Sound like you already got that job."

"You are the only person he's got to talk to," said Vic slowly, watching the road. "You are the only one that's safe for him to be around."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

"There is no way you're that cold and selfish."

"Whatever good you think I can do here," she said, ignoring his accusation. "I promise I can do more by keeping my head low and my nose out of this."

"But you're already involved!"

"No doubt part of your plan. However, I will not stay involved any longer than necessary. I intend to look into this person Beast Boy claims to be then get out as soon as possible."

Vic let out a long sigh, rolling his shoulders back against the seat. "So do you bash demons into submission with that hard head, or is it just me?" She glared at him and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Has it occurred to you that there might be more than one conspiracy here? That maybe this thing with Beast Boy is bigger than just you."

"Not to sound big headed, but I seriously doubt that."

"Big, ambiguous power has its hands on a changeling and you still think this is about you? Maybe you should just consider for one minute that they hired a demonologist for a reason. Even though any idiot could tell you that shapeshifter's not demonic himself."

"At least they haven't been jerking me around," she hissed back. The car slowed as they pulled down a side road, nearing the residential.

"I believe this is called "misdirected rage." If you think back, you'll probably realize I've been nothing but helpful. At least I haven't lied to you."

"If you want to be helpful, you can tell me what's going on."

"Ah, but that's not my job. But if our Fearless Leader decides that we can trust you, then I'd be more than happy to get you in the loop."

"If _he _decides you can trust _me_," she said in an offended voice.

"Come on, Dr. Roth," he chided. "Why would we let you on board if we knew you'd just hop right off again?" Rachel narrowed her eyes, unable to refute or accept his point. He gave her a sideways grin. "Speaking of which, this is your place, right?"

Rachel peered out the window and fought to keep the shock off her face. It was her place, the apartment where she lived and slept. Not the fake address she'd fed the office workers to keep herself safe. Not the address that was officially on file with everyone but Kori.

"Indeed it is," she responded in a cool voice. "Thank you for the lift."

"Any time. It's gotta be better than the company shuttle and train anyway."

She gave a curt nod and opened the door.

"And Dr. Roth," he called to her back. "He might be green, but he's still just a sensitive little man who's had a rough life. You could try talking to him like a person next time. You might get a better response."

She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes, but made no verbal reply as she entered the building. Vic rolled his eyes again and pulled out his phone.

"**So," **came a gruff voice halfway through first ring.

"She is not happy. You sure about this?"

"**If they want her involved, it's for a reason. We have to know what that is before we try to break him out."**

"Listen, I know you don't want to, but this would really work better if we told her-"

"**Vic, no. We've been over this."**

"She thinks we're the bad guys," he protested. "Dr. Roth is thoroughly convinced we're the one's that got her into this and, if my gut is any indication, plans to bail first chance she gets."

"**We're not the bad guys, we just need her help. If she wants to disappear when this is all over, I will help her forge a new identity myself." **

"Tell Dr. Roth that."

"… **Starfire's already on it."**

"Oh this aughta be good," Vic snorted. "Too bad you don't have the place bugged."

Click.


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Ah, I was doing so well too! I got about ¼ of the way into this chapter and then fell into a rut. First I just didn't know what to do with it, then I simultaneously liked and disliked everything. Then, as of the day before yesterday, inspiration turned back on! Granted, it's been like a light bulb with a flaky filament, but there nonetheless. Still not sure I actually **_**like**_** it, but it's the best I could come up with for this sort of bridge chapter. Besides, what's really important is that **_**you all**_** like it, not me. So have at it! Hopefully it's enjoyable. I'll try to be a bit more punctual with the chapter seven…**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Titans, not making any money with this, and no copyright infringement is intended. (I liked it better when I could be flippant with these…)**

Time is a strange thing, assuming it exists at all. Looking back, it seems to move quickly, passing by at a million miles per hour like a gust of wind. Yet in the moment time seems to stop, as if hovering in an eternity of infinite detail which suddenly and inexplicably passes into another. Somehow it all gets pieced together in the end, like the points of color on a TV screen that form an image. And those images get put together to make a past. But the essence of time, the reality of it, somehow always escapes such simple definition. Is time something that is inherent to the universe or do we create time? Does time flow past us or do we move through it?

Garfield never used to care much about time or space or any thing like that. He was always a "live life and don't ask questions" kind of guy… or at least, he used to be. Then he'd gotten involved with the wrong people… Actually, let's call it what it is. He fell in love with the wrong person and she'd sold him out to these lunatics. Now he was trapped in a white room, chained up like some kind of animal, with nothing to look forward to but drugs and needles, and nothing to do but think about random things like time. He could remember when time had been a dynamic force, something he measured and quantified in his own way. He remembered clocks and meeting times and shifts and all that. He remembered that, on the outside, time was considered to have a generally regular rhythm. And it had been such a pain. But in here, in this sterile white room with its white doors and shiny camera lenses, things were very different. In here he was on a solitary island in the river of time, watching it flow past without touching it.

It was a weird thought, a little crazy and a little scary, but no matter how many times he reflected on it between tests and prods and the sludge that passed for meals, he always came to that same conclusion. He didn't like it. He hated this stagnation, this nothingness. He wanted to be out there, out where moments flew by at the twitch of a second hand and days were measured by light and darkness. He missed the constraints of society. Perhaps in here, where there was nothing but white, time was free to do as it pleased, but he sure wasn't. And the longer he stayed the more that surreal feeling grated on him. The quiet gnawed at him and the isolation frayed his sanity and he never knew what was going to happen or when or if there was even a difference. Gar Logan was not built for solitude and it was sheer stubbornness that kept him from breaking altogether. Probably because on some level he knew that's what they wanted.

But that stubbornness was slipping; he knew it and, more importantly, _she _knew it. Which was why she had waited so long to do what she intended to do. It was why she chose now to visit, seeking out the subject for the first time. Now, as he weakened, as he fell towards his breaking point. Now was the time to act, to bring this pawn into her plan. And, oh, what a special part he would play!

Terra Markov was many things, devious, self-centered, but namely predictable. Often times she could be found doing the dirty work of one shady individual or another, thieving or intimidation with the occasional assassination job. That's what she did for the Church of Blood, anyway. When she'd finally gotten around to approaching them again, offering her various services in exchange for continued neutrality as per their arrangement, it was her newest playmate that had caught May's eye. The ability to manipulate stone was flashy enough, but it had little application in their long-term plans. But shapeshifting… she saw potential in that. She saw how she could use it.

And when she heard Terra had sold her toy, as she so often did, there was no passing up the opportunity it presented. The changeling's new owners were scientifically inclined, and, as fate would have it, so was their newest prospective Gem. They'd looked at many young women before, many who fit the profile of Trigon's daughter, but they had all turned out to be merely mortal. This one, though… She was slippery and secretive and very, very careful. Rachel Roth's only defining characteristic seemed to be her distinguished education in the field of biology and her borderline obsession with demon hunting. A research facility investigating the possible demonic nature of one of its newest specimens would be the best (and perhaps only) way to flush her out. And without much effort on her part, May was able to make that trap a reality.

No, she had Rachel's interest, the trick was keeping it. Beast Boy had been strong when they first brought him in, willful, powerful. Now he was faltering, his heart weakening. He would be easy prey and then, an easy pawn that she could maneuver to obtain her true goal. _Raven_ wasn't going to stay unless there was some sort of demon for her to hunt, a fact which she'd made abundantly clear. So a demon she would get and, assuming this truly was the Raven she sought, a demon she would vanquish. Then, and only then, would she be able to bring both prizes back to the Church of Blood, where finally the necessary preparations could be made.

May Bennett grinned to herself as she moved down the hall, her tall, thin heels clicking sharply with each step. Her black dress, slitted to the hip on both sides, swirled around her legs as her pitch-black hair swayed around her shoulders. In one hand she held the USB drive that served as a key to the changeling's cell, in the other, the device that controlled his shackles. A bag of enchanted sand bounced at her hip next to a sheathed obsidian dagger. It was the middle of the night and, after dismissing the security staff for the area, she was alone. Of course, the cameras were still on and filming, meaning every thing she was about to do would be recorded in exquisite detail.

'Well, almost everything,' May thought, her grin widening. Some things would need to be left unseen, mysteries to entice the curious. She slid the USB drive into its little slot, her inch long nails making the task more difficult than it had to be. Inside, Garfield lay sleeping, curled up in a little ball on the center platform. His ears twitched as the door whooshed open, and, when the click of May's heels entered the room, one emerald eye cracked. He looked like a cat disturbed from its nap, irritated, relaxed, and somehow on the verge of attack. She liked that.

"Hello," May greeted in a poisoned-honey tone. "Did I wake you?"

Gar snarled animalisticly, baring his canines as his ears pressed flat against his skull. She laughed at that, bringing her hands together as if to clap. The sound made the little hairs on the back of Garfield's neck stand on end and he rose into a crouch, preparing to defend himself in whatever ways were necessary. He'd never seen this woman before, but could tell by the smell of her that she was dangerous. The scientists, the guards, they all brought tranquilizers and cattle prods to hold him still as they took whatever it was that they wanted. Unpleasant, but predictable. Manageable. This person… she had no such weapons. She wasn't after what they were after and that made him nervous. That, and she stank of pig and goat blood.

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry," May cooed, as if to a dog. She held up the little box that controlled his bonds, rubbing the button suggestively. "Maybe I can make it up to you? Maybe I can give you a present?"

She pressed it and the shackles fell from Garfield's wrists and ankles. At first he just looked shocked, leaning back into a squat so he could rub his wrists. Then he notices something that made his entire body perk up; May hadn't cleared the door yet. It sat there wide open, and now, he was free of the only thing that kept him from charging out anytime anyone came in the room. Without thinking, he lunged towards freedom, leaping off the slightly raised platform at the center of the room. His body began to shift as he went, transforming into something powerful. A red symbol flashed on May's forehead and she caught him both mid-jump and mid-change. For a moment he just hung in the air, then she threw him back onto the ground without touching him. The breath left Gar's chest and he found himself paralyzed in his human form, gasping.

"Come now," May chided, advancing on him slowly. "What gave you the idea that that was my gift? No, no, no, pet. I have something… very, very special for you. Something you, well, _can't_ refuse."

She thrust a hand into her pouch, withdrawing a handful of sand, and began to walk a circle around him. Each step resonated with intent as the sand drizzled from her fist, creating a smooth, even line. Gar tried to lift his head to see what she was doing, but an unseen force held him down. He let out a choking noise as the force compressed his chest, causing May to grin sadistically.

"After all," she continued softly, completing her circle and moving towards his prone form. "_You_ are very, very special. Entirely unique both in build and situation. So powerful, and yet, so ignorant of how to use that power. And so _terribly disobedient_."

She straddled his chest, pulling out her obsidian dagger. Gar's eyes widened, yet that was about all he could do. May's weight felt like a house on his sternum and he was having trouble breathing, let alone fighting. The tip of her blade ran along Gar's jaw line like a caress, sliding into the hollow of his throat, then tracing his collarbone. It left behind a thin line of blood, causing Garfield to shudder and May to inhale sharply in excitement. She brought the blade to her face, smelling it as if to sample a perfume.

"I don't expect you'd understand any of this though," she continued, running her tongue along the dagger delicately. "Because even if you think yourself a man, deep down, you're just what they say. You're just a beast."

"What're you-" he protested gruffly, but she placed the tip of her blade on his lips like a finger.

"Shhh," May soothed, wetting her fingertips in Garfield's blood. "I know that's not what you want to hear. I know it causes you great pain… and anger… That's good; be angry. Let it fester inside you, let it consume you, until there's nothing left. Nothing but rage and hunger!"

Suddenly she stood, thrusting one hand into her pouch and withdrawing more sand, mingling it with his blood. With the other she pulled the obsidian blade across the soft flesh of her inner forearm, smiling manically as ruby liquid rose to the surface.

"Lingas Et Morgum… Solst Var Se Wren… Durbkas Nor Exases Xien!"

Her voice echoed in the hollow room, defining at first. Then, with disturbing speed, a rumbling noise began to consume her words. Suddenly, a dome of fire burst from the ring of sand, obscuring them from the watchful eyes of the cameras. May held up her bloodied arm, grinning knowingly, and ash flew from the flames to fester in the wound. No- not ash. Gar's eyes widened as he saw what looked like ash coalesce into gnats, which then came together to form something larger. Something the size of a rat that looked like a two-tailed snake with bowed, stubby arms. As it maneuvered across May's flesh he saw what looked distinctly like the face of a bat lapping up her blood with a little pink tongue. The creature was growing increasingly solid with each passing moment, as if the red liquid was somehow making it real. Tethering it to the mortal world.

"I can sense your fear," said May excitedly, her grin threatening to split her face. "And it's well placed. You truly are a monster of legend, Garfield Logan, and I'm going to help you see it. My friend here will release the hunger within you and then, once its consumed that pathetic will you call a self… Well, the Master is always pleased to receive new pets. Perhaps if The Gem takes as much of a liking to you as I believe she will, she'll keep you as her guard dog. You're going to do such terrible things with this inside you!"

The force on Garfield's chest suddenly let up and he rolled back, desperate to get away. Flames bit at his back, constraining him to the circle. He looked around frantically, but other than the obsidian dagger May still grasped, there were no weapons. His body wouldn't shift, no matter how much he willed it, and the knot of terror in his stomach was starting to unwind into outright panic.

"Stay the hell away from me," he shouted as soon as he had the air. Instinct pulled him into defensive crouch, his hair on end, his ears pressed back. His lips curled back and he bared his fangs in a primal threat. "I'm warning you."

"I'm afraid you're not that intimidating," May laughed, bringing the snake-bat creature to her face and rubbing it affectionately across her cheek. "Terra may have trained you in the grittier side of life, but you don't hold a candle to her. No matter how hard you try, you're burdened with a moral compass. You'll _need_ this to do what I want. Maybe you'll fight it at first, but in the end you'll give in. It's just in your nature to be trusting, to leave your mind wide open for anyone to take."

The creature- demon, turned an ember gaze to Garfield and made a little hissing sound. May extended her arm towards him, allowing the snake-bat to slither its length. It continued to hiss at him, running that little pink tongue along bloodstained teeth. Garfield's breathe shortened, his pupils dilating. His heart was pounding in his ears and he hadn't had a coherent thought since she'd pinned him aside from escape. But there was no escape, nowhere to run, no fight he thought he could win. May let out a squeal of excitement.

"You're going to play nice with my friend now," she continued manically, clearly taking great pleasure in Garfield's panic. "He's going to find a nice, dark hole in your heart and hide in it. Some wonderful, _painful_ memories to exploit. The Gem will have no choice but to get close to you if she wants this demon. So close she'll give herself away. Then all that'll be left for me to do is to collect my prize."

When Rachel entered their little apartment, she was overwhelmed by a startling sense of déjà vu. There, sitting at their little round table in their little kitchen, was Kori. She had her legs crossed delicately and a cup of mustard in her hand. Her brown eyes held a meaningful glint and as Rachel closed the door and set down her brief case, she pushed a steaming cup of herbal tea into position across from her. A plain wooden chair sat slightly away from the table and angled to the door, waiting. Rachel arched one dark eyebrow as she hung her jacket on a hook, smiling to herself.

"Should I take this as a sign of forgiveness," she said smoothly. "Or condemnation?"

"We have much to discuss," Kori replied, not quite coldly, but sternly. As one speaks to a rebellious teenager caught sneaking back in to the house. "Please sit."

She said please, but it wasn't a request. Rachel obliged, taking the provided chair and picking up the mug. She inhaled the steam and let the gentle scent of chamomile tickle her nostrils for a moment. A calming blend. That was a good sign; if Kori had wanted to yell at her, she would have provided something caffeinated to keep Rachel alert for the duration of the lecture. Chamomile meant they were really going to have a discussion. Rachel inhaled the odder a few more times, choosing her words carefully. Kori's moods were like the wind, generally fairly constant but unpredictable, capable of rapid and violent change. One must always read the wind before putting up the sails and trying to navigate.

"You're back," she finally managed.

"Indeed."

Rachel took a sip of tea and tried again.

"Was your visit enjoyable?" Risky, but direct. She did not want to bring up Dick if it could be avoided. Yet the longer they sat together, the more Rachel knew Dick was what Kori wanted to discuss. That figured.

"Some aspects were very enjoyable," Kori answered candidly. "Others were not."

"Kori-"

"You understand that I am angry with you, yes?"

Rachel's mouth snapped shut, trapping the harsh reply that threatened to leap from her tongue. Her pride was a powerful thing, a force few could so openly poke without being burned by its wrath. She did not like to be scolded, despite enduring more than her fair share of lectures. Once she'd matured into womanhood, those who dared to chide her suffered greatly and never did so again. Restraining herself now, in the name of friendship, was a punishment far worse than anything Kori could have planned. Her hands tightened around the hot mug and she focused on the searing pain in her palms, her protests silent. Kori watched her calmly, her face uncharacteristically passive. Rachel knew she could sulk and hold a grudge, but hadn't actually experienced her displeasure until now. A little part of her was proud Kori could be so cruel.

"I do not appreciate my trust being betrayed, especially not by my best friend," she continued in that same patronizing voice. "I specifically asked you to keep the knowledge I shared to yourself, yet for reasons I fail to understand, you did not. You flaunted it, to Dick no less, and whether you realize it or not, such carelessness puts us all in danger."

Rachel was surprised at the lack of blood in her mouth; she was sure she'd almost bitten her tongue clean off. Her eyes focused on the mug, memorizing its every color and contour. If she met Kori's accusatory gaze, all hell would break loose in their kitchen. Was it wrong to betray Kori's trust? Yes; but Rachel would not admit that for all the world. She refused to feel guilty, refused to feel anything but justified. Indeed, it was unfortunate that Kori was caught in the middle, and it was a testament to that misfortune that she checked herself now. Not eviscerating Kori on the spot was a mark of how much she truly valued their friendship.

"But friend Rachel," Kori's voice softened. "While I was with Dick I came to understand that you are not entirely in the wrong in this instance. You are angry with me too and I have been a bad friend to ignore that."

Rachel's head jerked up, the indignant responses she'd been composing bleeding away like watercolors. She opened her mouth to reply, but Kori silenced her with a small smile.

"It is little wonder you acted the way you have, considering how you've been treated by those around you, myself included. You are very smart and very careful. To be led blindly into this conspiracy of ours is insulting, is it not."

"Yes," said Rachel slowly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "That is one word I would use to describe it."

Kori's smile widened, her brown eyes softening. Things were clearly going exactly the way she'd hoped. She leaned forward across the table, lacing her fingers. "I'm glad I was able to correctly interpret your behavior. It has been my observation that the best of friends are often able to understand one another without words and my sincerest hope that we might reach that point. Do you feel the same?"

"Don't jerk me around Kori," Rachel snapped before she could refine her phrasing. "If you want to talk about my _feelings_, fine, we can talk about my feelings. But if that's the only thing you had planned for this little midnight tea, then I'm getting up right now and I am leaving."

The enthusiasm faded from Kori's face, her smile failing, her eyes darkening. She let out a low sigh and looked down at her clasped hands, rubbing a thumb up and down her forefinger. There was no shock in her expression or surprise in her posture. She'd known Rachel didn't have the patience for these sorts of games and, as much as it saddened her to admit it, would only play them if there was something she needed at the other end of the bargain. If there wasn't, well… Rachel just stared at her coldly, confirming these worries and more.

"You are referring to the Project." She read the statement from the air between them, giving Rachel's threat voice.

"You have no idea the risks I took- the risks I'm _taking_, to be a part of this plot of yours. And if it turns out that there's not even a demon, which looks very probable at this point, then there is no reason for me to involve myself further. I can't justify myself or my actions with the knowledge I have right now, do you understand that?"

"I would if you explained it to me." The request was so absurd that even Kori couldn't bring herself to look Rachel in the eye when she said it. Rachel raised both eyebrows and peered down her nose at Kori's shameful face, smiling in a heartless way.

"Now who's asking the forbidden questions," she mocked, setting down her mug with a sharp _clink_.

"You know I don't like secrets."

"Do I? Lately it seems you just don't like _my_ secrets, but are entirely content to keep your own-"

Kori stood up forcefully, knocking her chair over and slamming her hands onto the table. It groaned loudly at the impact, protesting her inhuman strength.

**"How dare you!"**

Rachel was unmoved, her smile cold and constant as stone. Her eyes met Kori's, then flicked down to the table meaningfully. Kori followed her gaze, looking embarrassed, and lifted her hands slowly. Cracks shot through the wood along the grain, stemming from the places Kori's palms had occupied not a second before. She swallowed, balling her hands into fists and holding them rigidly against her sides.

"You are a very difficult friend," she said in a strained voice. "I am just trying to help you."

"Then stop prying and tell me what I need to know. What's going on and why am I involved? That is why you came back, isn't it?"

Kori tossed her hair in frustration, cornered. She and Rachel rarely fought, if ever, but on those few occasions such tussles occurred it was always trench warfare. Rachel never missed a cheep shot and Kori, armed with righteousness, never failed to withstand them. Feuding could last for days until someone, usually Kori, offered the olive branch and the two got over it. They did not have days and, though Rachel was not doing a good job of advocating for herself, she did have a right to know what was happening. And Kori's sense of justice was stronger than her pride.

"I am part of a group of… individuals," Kori started carefully. "Special individuals… like you."

"Kori, I know what your trying to do, but believe me when I tell you there is no one like me."

"No, I know that," she insisted, leaning forward. Her fingertips found the tabletop and pressed lightly, supporting her weight.

"No you don't."

"I know there are certain aspects of yourself _you'd _rather not tell me about. And I know there are certain aspects of me you'd rather _I _not tell you about. Aspects that are, how do you say it, abnormal?"

If Kori hadn't had years of practice reading Dick, she wouldn't have noticed Rachel's guard go up. She might've stiffened, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Kori recovered quickly.

"But that is a discussion for another day; I have no wish to place pressure on you or make you feel uncomfortable. If you prefer to keep these things as secrets, then as secrets they shall be kept. I only brought it up to help you understand the purpose of our group."

"Moral support," chaffed Rachel dryly. Kori paused for a moment, frowning slightly.

"I do not understand," she confessed after an _almost_ playful pause, causing Rachel to _almost_ smile.

"Never mind." It was both comforting and disconcerting, how well Kori could defuse a situation involving Rachel. A sign of how well the golden girl truly knew her. "What does your group do?"

"We are gifted and think these gifts should be used for the betterment of humanity." Rachel rolled her eyes. "Specifically, we thing our gifts are needed to protect this city from evil, so we are attempting to determine what the people you're working for want with Beast Boy."

"I am not following your logic," Rachel said in a flat voice, shaking her head.

"It is simple, really. The organization is conducting dangerous and immoral experiments on Beast Boy and we wish to save him."

"I can't decide if you're trying to be funny again or just don't know how ridiculous you sound…" Kori gave her a perplexed look, cocking her head to one side so her hair rippled like silk. Rachel gave an exasperated sigh and looked longingly towards her room. "Anyway, you're talking about it like it's some sort of rouge group. I'm working for a branch of the government, or is that also a lie."

"Indeed, that is a lie, but it is not of our making. This is something they told you, and most of the other lower ranked scientists, so they appear official and sanctioned. If they have any ties to this country, or any country's, government, we do not know of it."

Rachel dropped her chin and regarded her friend skeptically, attempting to discern any hint of a falsehood. Kori might have refrained from telling her the whole truth on occasion, but she was a terrible liar. Her pupils dilated to the size of M&Ms and, strangely enough, her hands turned red. But none of the telltale signs of Kori's fibbing were present. Regardless of what the reality was, Kori certainly believed everything she was saying. Her brows furrowed as she considered the implications.

"Why am I here," she probed calmly, keeping her voice passive.

"They've shown a peculiar interest in you for a long time."

"Me? They were looking for me and, instead of a warning, you thought it would be a good idea to sign me up with them?"

"Well, not I. Dick suggested that the best way to discover their plans was to "play along" and watch what happens. He believes that this is the best way to "flush them out" and he has had a great deal of experience in these matters, so…"

She trailed off, looking embarrassed. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two, which, after a few seconds, Kori felt compelled to fill. There were several bangs and scrapes that seemed to echo until Kori had repositioned her chair, and then the low tapping of toes on the floor began. Still Rachel did not answer. She was too mortified to answer.

"Friend Rachel," Kori finally spilled urgently. "I know we were wrong to keep this from you, but what's done is done. Please do not take it out on Beast Boy."

"Take it out on Beast Boy," Rachel repeated, her voice low. She had resumed her staring contest with the long cooled tea, as if she intended to boil it again with the intensity of her gaze. "Kori, you have no idea what you've done. If they were looking for me, then there's a chance they know more about me than you do. And if that's the case then it could be very bad for everyone, Beast Boy included, if I stayed. In light of this, the best thing for me to do right now is to disappear."

"No! Rachel, you mustn't! Right now you are the only human connection he has! You are his only hope for escape, we cannot proceed without you!"

"Human," she scoffed. "If only you knew how utterly absurd you sounded."

"Perhaps it is absurd. Perhaps I was naïve to think you'd want to help, given the facts. Perhaps Dick was right and I am misguided in telling you any of this. Nevertheless, I believe you need to make your own decision as to whether you help or not. So I will tell you what I know on the subject. All I ask in return is that you listen."

Rachel, who'd leaned forward as if to stand, leaned back in her chair, folding her arms and crossing her legs. Her face was completely passive, like an emotionless mask, which was Kori's first clue that she was treading on very thin ice. But if there was one thing, on bait, Rachel couldn't say no to it was information. Knowledge was both her strength and her Achilles heel. It was one of the many things she and Dick had in common. Kori took a slow breath, and started the speech she'd been preparing all night.

"Garfield Logan is the orphaned son of geneticists Marie and Mark, and, though we are not sure of the details, we know his condition is the result of their work. He was kidnapped at a young age and forced into thievery, passed around more like a toy than a human being until this current organization acquired him through a woman called Terra Markov. Once again, we don not know the details. The organization currently seeks to, for all intents and purposes, weaponize Garfield and his ability. This, above all else, we cannot allow; the human police have no ways of combating such abilities, as evidenced by his success in stealing, and would quite simply be outmatched if the organization had their way. It is not Garfield's fault that he is as he is and we would like to believe that, given the choice, he would join us and fight crime rather than perpetrate it. If nothing else, he should be granted the right to choose, like any other individual.

"For reasons we do not fully understand, the organization that has Garfield expressed a keen interest in you as well. That is to say, in Dr. Rachel Roth. Dick and I originally sought you out _because_ **they** were watching you. We feared you might be mislead by them and wished to, how did he say it, "get to you first." I know your preference would have been avoidance, but please believe me when I tell you that such is not possible. If they want you, for any reason, then they will have you. You cannot run from these people, you cannot hide; many of our friends tried and failed. When it became clear that their interest in you was much more than passing, we decided to secure you a position before they forced you into one. We only did what we thought would be least painful for you."

"How thoughtful," commented Rachel scathingly. Kori ignored her, speaking quickly as if she feared Rachel would just get up and leave at any moment, though there was nothing in Rachel's body that would indicate she wanted to.

"I shall admit- no, I shall confess, our meeting was no accident. It was planned that I should speak with you, and hoped that you would reciprocate. But our friendship is real! You must believe that I have never sought to manipulate you. I never saw the need. Rachel, you are a good, compassionate person-"

"And look where it's landed me," snapped Rachel, leaning like a snake poised to strike. "In a hole so deep it could easily become a grave!"

"Yes, we took advantage of these traits and it was wrong! But-"

"No. No buts, no excuses, no explanations. I don't care, do you understand? You will never know the vicariousness of my position, the sin of my very existence. I've worked out that, for one reason or another, this is important to you and your boyfriend, but you had no right to drag me into it."

Her voice was soft, but frigid, like the dry winter air that cracks your skin and rasps in your throat. Her gaze was unblinking and, even as Kori watched, the amulet around her neck fell into view, trembling. Kori did not know what it was, only that Rachel never took it off and now, as her rage built, it looked like it might shatter. And that frightened her.

"I have said I am sorry," she tried gently, meeting Rachel's stern blue eyes. "Even though you were already involved, we were wrong to maneuver you as we did; how many times do you wish that I repeat myself? What more do you want me to say?"

"I want you to let me go," said Rachel before she could stop herself. She pursed her lips and sighed heavily through her nose, looking away from Kori until her pendant stopped shaking. "I want you to understand that I can't be here any more and to stop giving me that Bambi face."

"Bambi," Kori asked timidly, wringing her hands anxiously.

"Disney movie, baby deer, hunters killed his mother," Rachel elaborated absently.

"I do not know it… But I could imagine Bambi would make a terribly sad face." They sat in silence for a long moment before Kori let out a sigh of her own. "Rachel, my dearest friend, I am not your jailer. If it is truly your desire to flee, then I will not stop you. However-'

Rachel's eyes slid back to Kori and narrowed in suspicion. Kori continued delicately, as if working with an angry predator.

"I do not exaggerate. You are quite literally our only hope of discovering the greater purpose of this organization and saving Garfield. Additionally, should you run now, these people will follow. They have superior power and resources and they will not be denied what they seek. If you are not careful, then you may very well join Garfield."

Rachel was silent, either considering Kori or preparing to verbally eviscerate her. Kori kept going, either oblivious or past the point of caring.

"Now, please correct me if I am wrong, but if you had a preferable hiding place, that is where you would be now. I would not have even found you in that store and you certainly would not be living in a simple apartment. As one who has been in vicarious situations herself, I believe the safest place is right before those who hunt you. Cunning _is not_ an emphasized trait in my culture; yet Dick has taught me its value. All else aside, if you are ever in a position to destroy your enemy, you should. True, I have only known you for a short while, yet in that time I have learned much about this "sin" of your existence. Rachel, you have power within you and the capacity to do much good, though you are loathed to admit it. Yet yours is a life spent running and hiding like a frightened glorgbar. If I may be honest, it is rather sad."

Kori paused, waiting for her roommate's blistering reply. Rachel, however, made none. She looked torn between shock and admiration, unsure of whether to be offended or impressed. Kori inhaled deeply and kept going, hoping that she wasn't misreading her friend's expression.

"Perhaps you do not believe that you can face this foe on your own, and thus feel compelled to run. But there is no reason for you to be alone; Dick, myself, and our associated may not appear promising, but we could be powerful allies. All I… all _we_ ask is that you continue your work with Beast Boy, and, when the time comes, assist us in his rescue. Help us, and we will most assuredly help you."

Rachel leaned back in her chair again, fingering her amulet thoughtfully. Her blank, emotionless stare was only matched by Kori's, like an unfriendly game of poker. Outside the apartment time flowed normally, seconds ticking by with the thin hands of thousands of clocks. People talked and laughed and rushed to last minute appointments. The universe outside was normal. But the interior of the apartment was trapped in a surreal spell. As if within a snow globe, nothing moved, nothing changed. Time passed, yet the universe paid it no mind. Two friends, neither what she seemed, simultaneously poised for the attack and embrace. Finally, Rachel smiled, laying down her arms.

"I like you, Kori," she said simply. "You may even be the only friend I've ever had. I _trust_ you; I trust your judgment, especially now that you've shared as much of the truth as you can. Because it's you who's asking and because you obviously trust me as well, I'll stay and make nice with the shapeshifter. But I need to make something abundantly clear to you. Or maybe I should say to Dick. I'll continue my work on the Project **on my terms**. I'm not a part of your little squad and I have no intention of joining it. As soon as I decide I'm done, I'm leaving. And you would do well not to follow."


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I have made an important discovery: I have a very hard time writing at school. Things don't come as naturally and it is frustrating. On the other hand, in moments of inspiration which unfortunately tend to come right in the middle the listening exercises for my music class, I have divined what is to come in this story. That is to say, my writer's block is a lack of "how to write" as opposed to "what." Yay? Anyway, I've got one more chapter "planned" for Part I and then we'll be onto Part II. I'll stop rambling now and let you get on with it. And go write a paper. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I am not claiming ownership or making any sort of money. No copyright violation is intended.**

* * *

"I'll continue my work on the Project **on my terms**. I'm not a part of your little squad and I have no intention of joining it. As soon as I decide I'm done, I'm leaving. And you would do well not to follow," said Rachel's distorted voice in a straightforward tone. It was a little scary, actually; how flippantly she spoke. As if her words had no impact beyond herself and her own whims. She almost sounded bored, like the entire mission was beneath her and she had better things to do.

There was the scrape of a chair and intentional footsteps, then the click of a door closing and Star's distinctive sigh. Dick Grayson let out a sigh of his own, removing the headphones and running his hands through his skillfully styled hair. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair, staring imploringly up at the pitch-black ceiling. There_ was_ light in the closet-like room, but it came from a solitary lamp on the desk. No windows, no paint, no furnishings beyond the desk and the swivel chair. Pictures, newspaper clippings, maps, and connecting lines of string decorated a corkboard on the wall to his left, like a schizophrenic's collage. To his right there was a giant white board filled with technological designs, building plans, and notes written in code. The handwriting was pristine, engineering print, identical to the meticulous labels which marked every tape and disk in the room. A giant monitor with about ten different programs running hung on the wall above the desk, taking up its breadth with ease. The door lay behind Dick, outlined in the yellow light that seeped in from his public home.

There were all kinds of gadgets tucked away in this back room, but at the moment, the only one Dick cared about was the tape recorder that sat before him. Old-fashioned, but tapes were significantly harder copy and steal than digital files. The tape itself had previously been altered to play only with the Dick's player, so there was no loss of encryption either. And since these particular tapes were for his ears only, portability wasn't an issue. They stayed right here, safe, hidden, and locked up. He knew it was morally ambiguous to have his girlfriend's kitchen bugged and he knew she wouldn't react well if she ever found out. Rachel might outright kill him if she knew, but he just couldn't help himself. Vic called it being an obsessive, paranoid, control freak; Dick called it prudence.

"Star," he bemoaned quietly. "Was it really necessary to tell her _all _of that? I swear, you're one of these days gonna give me a heart attack…"

He let out another sigh and stood up, hanging the headphones neatly across his listening device. Pursing his lips in thought he moved to the corkboard, rubbing his chin with one hand and folding the other across his chest. The board was divided into three distinct segments surrounding a center photo of Garfield Logan. In the upper left-hand corner there was a photo of Rachel Roth and in the upper right-hand corner, a hand-scrawled note that read "Cerveau." Squished at the bottom of the board was the mug shot of a pretty blond girl with big, deep-sky blue eyes and sun kissed skin. She wore her hair straight and down around her face and the board she held up with disdain identified her as Terra Markov.

Each player was connected back to Garfield with a string and, of the four, Terra had undoubtedly the most associated articles. Near as Dick could tell, she'd provided the Organization with "Beast Boy," but was otherwise uninvolved. Dick thought he understood why, too; she was sloppy and careless, avoiding capture solely through her geo-kinetic abilities and leaving a paper trail the size of a small dinosaur. Generally she stuck to theft, but her record was littered with unrelated murders, most likely assassination jobs. Seems about a year ago she stumbled upon the changeling during one of these "jobs," swiping him away from a particularly heinous lawyer Nicholas Galtry. The two had "worked" together until Terra traded Beast Boy for, as far as he could tell, immunity. Dick wasn't sure to what extent Garfield was involved with Terra, but a life of crime seemed to be nothing new to the changeling.

Moving up one photo, Garfield's picture was most notably marked with a front-page article on "America's Most Wanted Eight Year Old." Next to it there was a short and ambiguous obituary for Marie and Mark Logan that mourned the loss of their work on the "green monkey" and its usefulness to modern biology more than the people themselves. Apparently, Beast Boy's parents had been quite brilliant. There was a bit more on Nicholas Galtry, who somehow managed to get a hold of Garfield's inheritance, and his shady associations with jewel thieves. Of the ones they could catch, these thieves either died conveniently or swore Galtry was to blame, that he had some kind of shapeshifting kid that did all the dirty work. This was, of course, considered ludicrous all the way up until they managed to catch said shapeshifter. Galtry bailed him out, claiming he was his "long lost" nephew and a troubled youth who was the unfortunate victim of his parents' cruel experiments. Now utterly lacking in humanity, the poor boy aught to be treated more as an animal than a person and returned to him like a lost dog. This conflicted with the arresting officers reports, which indicated that the changeling not only possessed human facilities, but was also quite talkative and clever. A mysterious fire at the police station ended the matter before anyone's story could be confirmed, and Garfield Logan was presumed dead… All the way up until the point when a green changeling started showing up with Terra Markov.

No, Beast Boy's history was quite clear; his willingness as a participant was not… The individual known as Cerveau had the opposite problem. His history was sparse, but riddled with intent. Unlike Terra Markov, his record was near spotless, suspicious but inconclusive. Cerveau wasn't connected to anything or anyone, but there certainly were a lot of people connected to him. Whispers, rumors, but enough to make his various… acquisitions more than a little dubious. Most of Dick's information in this section came from the Doom Patrol's reports, which linked Mousier Cerveau with the much more publically villainous Brotherhood of Evil. As a group dedicated to world domination and enslavement, the name seemed appropriate. The connection alone wasn't enough to take him down, but it'd been enough to make Dick very nervous when Cerveau "obtained" Garfield Logan. The supplemental information of the Organization's movements supplied by Vic Stone only made him more nervous.

Which brought them to the newest, and sparsest addition to the board, Dr. Rachel Roth. Starfire's little chat with her roommate may have been risky, but it turned out well enough and gained him a little more information. So far, all Dick could put together was that, for all intents and purposes, Rachel Roth didn't exist prior to eight years ago. She had no childhood, no teenage years, and, despite her credentials, no concrete education. Yes, she possessed several commendable degrees, but the records of how she got them or from what university were slippery. Her dissertations were easy enough to find, but since entering the professional world at the ripe age of twenty-two (the first two years of her existence seemed to have been spent establishing residency and credibility) hadn't published a single paper. Mostly, she seemed to use her credentials to weasel her way into positions involving supernatural creatures. Reports indicated that, once a problem of possible demonic nature arose, Dr. Roth appeared out of the blue and dealt with it. If it was indeed supernatural, she vanquished the demon or ghost or whatever, if not, she handled the situation using her training in psychology and animal behavior. Regardless, people were always better off for having her around and she had an unquestionable 100% clearance rate.

Dick already suspected that she, like Starfire, Vic, and Garfield, wasn't strictly speaking human. But, despite not wanting to trust her with all the facts of their situation just yet, he'd figured her for one of the good guys. Killing demons seemed like a pretty honorable thing to do. Yet after that night's talk, he wasn't so sure. What was she running away from and, more importantly, what terrible thing would happen if they found her? _Who_ was after her and why? Was she killing demons because it was morally right or because she had something to hide? And most importantly, what was her connection to Beast Boy? Rachel herself was either unaware or not sharing, but the Organization certainly thought they had one. And, given the amount of effort they'd put into pushing the demonologist and the shapeshifter together, it couldn't be anything "good."

He sensed he was missing something here, something about Rachel, something key. Dick snorted in annoyance, nodding at the wall and pacing as if the change in angle might yield some secret message. Some hidden truth he hadn't noticed before. Finally, he pulled a scrap of paper off a nearby stack, scribbled a note, and pinned it between Rachel and Cerveau. He then attached three strings to the pin, linking it to Cerveau, Rachel, and Garfield to form a web of triangles. The note was simple, yet the conclusion it denoted had case shattering implications. It read: Third Party with a question mark.

* * *

The next few days in the Roth-Anders apartment were cordial. Not cold or hostile, but certainly not the friendly, comfortable atmosphere one would have found two weeks ago. Rachel was polite, but distant, as if she'd decided their friendship itself had been tainted with Kori's deception. If it wanted to survive the metaphorical winter, then it simply had to be rebuilt from the bottom up. Reforged in the harsh light of reality, so to speak. Kori, for her part, was trying desperately to do just that; however, the burnt glop that had been breakfast in bed and the girls' night featuring a romantic comedy and toenail painting had not gone over well. Throwing tact to the wind, Rachel had refused to so much as touch the glop or allow Kori anywhere near her toenails. Considering Kori's knowledge of friendship building was completely limited to TV dramas and children's movies, this frustration was inevitable. Short of a near-death bonding experience, she was out of ideas.

It certainly didn't help that Rachel was putting next to no effort into the healing process herself. Most of the time she wasn't even home. She'd taken to locking herself in the archives at work, going over every file related to the Leshy Project she could get her hands on. So… not that many. What she did find were the internally published results of the subject's cellular and hormonal tests.

Beast Boy's cells appeared normal enough near as she could tell, excepting one extraneous organelle. Every cell in his body, from nerve to epithelial to the red blood corpuscles (which eject the majority of their organelles upon maturation) contained what they thought was a second nucleus. Contained within his DNA were the pieces to every known genetic code and then some, like a vault of blocks that could be used to build any and every structure imaginable. They hypothesized the human DNA, that which belonged to Garfield Logan, was housed within the "regular" nucleus and everything else was housed in this auxiliary organelle. How it got there or how it worked without killing Beast Boy remained unknown. The hormonal results were less extensive, as most of the compounds had yet to be isolated or characterized. All they could say for certain was that Beast Boy had maybe a hundred or more times the regulatory hormones of a regular human being and these had to be involved in his transformations. The entire system was highly unstable and, to the great disappointment of the "higher ups," could not be replicated, or even sustained in a Petri dish, outside of the subject himself.

This cellular and chemical stuff was in no way Dr. Roth's forte, but she tried her best to understand. Having never actually encountered biological data on demons, she wasn't really clear on what she hoped to find in these test results. Impossible as it seemed, what happened to Beast Boy's body whenever he changed appeared entirely explainable, given enough time and study. There wasn't a hint of the magic or random corrosive materials she'd come to associate with demons. That is to say, if he was demonic in nature, then she expected to find a report somewhere detailing some kind of extraneous acid sac or poison glands or subcutaneous bone spikes. But there was nothing of that nature. The guy hadn't even killed anyone since arriving! In her gut she knew there was no demon to be hunted here- at least, not of the hell-spawn variety. Yet Rachel kept reading, kept digging, trying to satisfy a newfound curiosity in the changeling. Kori's information regarding the Organization's interest in her brought up a valid question: why did they want her interacting with Beast Boy? What could they possibly get out of pushing them together? If they didn't want her for her expertise in demon vanquishing, then why was she there?

"Has it occurred to you that they may legitimately want the kid evaluated," suggested Vic, flipping through a file on his desk. "All of our work has been at or below the cellular level; maybe they're looking to study him as an entire organism."

Rachel leaned against the closed door across from him, shaking her head. She'd decided she liked Vic and had taken to consulting him on the things she didn't understand. For a technologist, his knowledge of molecular and cell biology was a little surprising. Maybe eve a little disturbing, but he was straightforward and efficient. That, and of all her associates, she had the least to hide from him. Vic was in the same vicarious, "working with the enemy" position as she, so they could both be relatively frank, and they worked well together.

"There's more to it," she said, frowning. "They're working some angle, some agenda we're not privy to."

"Yeah, obviously. But seriously, I think you're comin' at this from the wrong direction."

"How so," asked Rachel, raising an eyebrow skeptically. She looked as if she was already preparing her counterargument, causing Vic to sigh heavily. He closed the folder and looked at her, his grey eyes stern.

"You're so obsessed with this whole demon thing you can't see the flip side. Maybe they don't give a crap about any of that and just want your expertise as behaviorist."

"Which is why they told me the thought he was a demon…"

"Come on, would you have come if they told you he was an "exotic animal" or something? Look at it this way, we're pretty sure their end goal is to control him, and minds are much easier to manipulate than cells."

She threw him a disbelieving look. Vic grinned back and gave her a thumbs-up, causing her to roll her eyes and straighten.

"Regardless," she said, ignoring his continued joviality. "I need to go see the subject. It's been a couple days since I called him demonic to his face, so he's probably forgotten all about it. Who knows, maybe he'll even be in a good enough mood to tell me a little bit more about his previous associates… Maybe one of them is a demon I can go kill."

"You'd **better** get something out of it, or else the higher ups are gonna start wondering what's taking you so long. Which pretty much means their gonna go snooping and find some stuff you don't want them to see, am I right? All that to say, you'd best get on your paperwork."

Rachel threw him a cold, 'you wouldn't dare' look, which Vic met with a smile and a small wave. She made a move to leave.

"Actually, wait a minute. Before you go, I wanted to get your opinion on something." Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment, then fell back to her side as she turned. Vic moved to the computer and started to pull something up, waving her over.

"This is the footage of Beast Boy's cell from two nights ago," he said as he worked the mouse.

"The night after you drove me home," she confirmed. Vic nodded, pressing the play button. Seconds ticked by and the room filled with Beast Boy's snores. Rachel tilted her head expectantly, her gaze moving from the screen to Vic. "And," she finally asked, unable to stand the sound much longer.

"Well, here's the footage of the same time from a week ago," Vic said, pulling up another window and syncing the time signatures on the two videos. "Notice anything odd?"

"He sounds like a sleeping bear," tried Rachel tiredly. As she spoke, the Beast Boy in both films rolled over, jerking his leg as if dreaming. Rachel frowned at that leaning forward to scrutinize the screen. "No, wait… that can't be right. They look the same."

"They're identical," said Vic matter-of-factly, folding his arms and straightening. "All the way through. There's not a single difference between them."

"This can't be the footage from two nights ago. It's statistically not possible."

"That's what I was thinking," Vic agreed with a nod. "Someone's replaced the real footage with this and hoped no one would notice. Clearly they didn't anticipate my genius."

"Well, it did take you two days to catch it," criticized Rachel, poking a hole in Vic's ego balloon. He deflated slightly, making a face which Rachel ignored. "Has Beast Boy's behavior changed at all since that night? Does he appear hurt or otherwise compromised?"

"That's why it took me so long to catch; the little grass stain's just been carrying on like he always has. His shirt's new, but that's not abnormal. The doctors like to keep him and his cell sterile. If something went down, he doesn't seem to care."

"I'll ask him about it," she said, standing up to leave.

"I was hoping you would," Vic shot back with a sly grin. Rachel returned it. "I'll fix the cameras to give you two some privacy. And while you're down there I'll also try and recover the lost file. Unless they wiped the hard drive it's still in there somewhere. Don't worry, I'll coax it out."

* * *

This time Rachel made no pretense of unease or uncertainty; she just brushed past the guards with a nod and marched in to Beast Boy's cell, easy as you please. Like she was going to the supermarket or something mundane, not strolling into the jaws of, according to every other scientist on the project, pure, feral, evil. A man whose dress identified him as a visitor from another guard post gave her a flirtations grin as she passed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rachel, shot him a warning look, but smiled a little on the inside. It was her intention to be noticed. She wore a long, black dress which accented her waist with a subdued, dark purple corset. To make it a little more business appropriate, she'd added a simple black jacket with silver buttons and flat black boots. In her experience, feminine wiles were particularly helpful in getting men to do what she wanted, and among other things, Beast Boy was a man. A particularly troublesome man at that, if her initial experiences were any indication, and she needed all the help she could get.

"Hello," she greeted flatly, making sure to clear the door way as she entered. The steel block slid shut behind her like a vault, the electric field engaging. Beast Boy, who sat leaning against the wall across and slightly to the right of her, shot her an annoyed look. There was something about his expression that moaned: 'You again?'

Rachel let out a small sigh through her nose, wondering if he could have looked any less enthusiastic. She pulled the controller for his chains out of her pocket, released them, then put it back casually, moving towards him. Beast Boy looked down at his wrists and ankles, then back up at her, frowning in suspicion. He didn't leap up and rush her like she'd anticipated, instead electing to keep his distance. Watching her warily like skittish dog.

"I need to talk to you."

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned his head to one side. It was the look of a teenager being patronized about the tooth fairy and, though not quite what she wanted, it was about what Rachel expected. With another sigh, Rachel rolled her lips together and looked away, preparing herself for what she had to do. Humiliating as it was…

"I'm sorry I called you a demon. There, I said it. Now you can stop being offended and we can move on. I have things to ask you that require a somewhat detailed response and the less time we have to spend together, the better."

That seemed to sway him a little, but his relaxed form was far from convinced. His green eyes caught hers meaningfully, as if to evaluate any signs of deception that might be lurking in their depths. Then he did something decidedly stupid; he dropped his gaze to Rachel's chest. She set her jaw and pouted her lips off to one side, nodding in unsurprised disappointment. Men: give 'em long enough and their eyes will invariably start to "wander." Yet, before she could open her mouth to scold him, Beast Boy's eyes met hers again. He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, his gaze flicking down to her chest and back. Rachel frowned, turning her head and giving him a confused expression. Beast Boy's eyebrows, against all odds, climbed even higher and he flat out jerked his head towards her, pointing discretely at his own throat. There was a moment of silence, then Rachel let out a groan of understanding.

"Is this what you want," she asked, digging her amulet out from beneath the folds of her dress and holding it towards him. Its chain of woven obsidian beads strained against her pale neck, the periwinkle stone gleaming. Beast Boy's mouth turned up in a mischievous grin and he tilted his head, eyes still latched onto hers in an unblinking stare. The message was clear enough: 'Take it off.'

She let out another sigh, shaking her head as she undid the clasp. The amulet fell heavily into her hand, which immediately closed into a fist around it. Beast Boy pouted his mouth off to one side and extended his own hand palm up, fingers wiggling in a beckoning gesture. Rachel looked like she wanted to strangle him, or at least maim him a little. Nevertheless, she crammed the amulet into his waiting palm, trying not to touch him as she did do. Her demonic form flashed for an instant, and then was gone. Purple hair and eyes appeared to glow as the gem on her forehead glinted in the white light. Beast Boy felt the hair across his body raise on end again, charged by her magical presence and gave her a triumphant smile.

"There," she spat venomously. "You happy?"

"Yep," he replied, standing. His fingers curled around her amulet and he held it close.

"You know," Rachel said tersely. "If I'm here, you can just assume the cameras are off. We don't have to do this _every time I visit_."

"Oh, I think we do. I think if you want me to talk or even so much as mime, then I'm gonna need a little insurance. Safe for you, safe for me, right?"

Beast Boy grinned, wrinkling his nose, and Rachel got the overwhelming urge to smack him. Instead she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, pulling a small bag and tossing it towards him. Asking nicely had been less than productive, so now it was time to try bribery.

"I brought you something," she all but growled, staring as if to dare him to refuse her gift. "It's not much, but I've never known an American man who didn't appreciate even a cheep bacon-cheeseburger."

The look she received was venomous. Beast Boy's nostrils flared and his face crinkled up in pure disgust. He recoiled, looking from the obscene bag on the floor to Rachel, then back again.

"Dude," he said tersely. "I'm vegan."

"No your not." There wasn't even a trace of uncertainty in Rachel's voice, just cold pride at having caught him in his deception. Beast Boy rolled his eyes in frustration, scooting along the wall to get away from the cheeseburger.

"Seriously," he said again, holding up his hands for emphasis. "I'm _vegan_. I don't eat animal products, cheep beef, bacon, and cheese included."

"I know what a vegan is! There's just no possible way that _you're_ vegan. Humans are designed to be omnivorous and, on top of that, you turn into the largest predators ever to walk the earth. I'm no expert on dinosaurs, but that kind of hunger must be insatiable. Besides, you would've starved in here if you refused to eat any animal products."

"Have you **seen** the crap they give me? I think they just mash their recycle paper into a pulp, mix it with some synthetic vitamin/protein paste they cook up in a lab, and call it good. Nasty, but 100% vegan. _**Besides**_, changeling doesn't just mean predators; I can turn into whatever I want."

"Sooooo, why do you have a problem with meat?"

"I've _been_ the animals people use for food, cow, pig, goat, fish, so eating them myself just feels sorta like… cannibalism."

He said the last word abnormally quickly, then stood up very straight, as if preparing to defend his position further. But Rachel didn't attack. She gave him a small, strange frown, though whether she was frowning at him or just thinking was impossible to tell. Finally, unexpectedly, she shrugged.

"That's a fair point. Not something I personally would have thought of, but perfectly fair."

Beast Boy tucked his head back against his chest like a turtle recoiling into its shell, shocked and more than a little confused. If Rachel noticed, she didn't mention it. Instead she just continued speaking in a low voice, half to herself, folding her arms as her gaze fell to the floor.

"I'm actually a little surprised; it sounds like you've thought this through almost carefully. Maybe even, dare I say, rationally."

"Hey," said Beast Boy indignantly, relaxing into a slouch and grinning despite himself. "This may sound a little weird coming from a guy who's gotten himself caught in a cell, but I'm actually not that stupid."

"Oh, I wouldn't call you stupid," replied Rachel absently. "Just… impulsive." She raised one hand with that last word, as if to present it to him on her fingertips. Another smile twisted Beast Boy's lips and a chuckle started in his chest. Was she being honest or diplomatic? He felt it was the former and it amused him that, of all the words she could have chosen given their previous interactions, _impulsive_ was the one she came up with. And that, after every thing _she'd_ done, including but not limited to unchaining a changeling and then insulting him to his face multiple times, _he_ was the impulsive one. Finally, he couldn't contain it anymore and snorted in unbidden laughter.

Blood sprayed across the white floor.

Beast Boy's smile fell and his chest visibly deflated. In an overly practiced ritual, one hand reaching up to try and contain the spontaneous bloody nose while his head jutted forward to avoid staining his white shirt. The other fiddled around with his waistband, securing Rachel's amulet between his left hip and the cloth-covered elastic. Her purple eyes caught the red flecks against white plaster and swung up to her vicariously positioned gem, then to his face. She collected herself, adopting a rigid back and professionally blank stare. She'd come prepared this time and produced a small packet of tissues from nowhere Beast Boy could see. He accepted them with a small groan of resignation, stuffing the white paper up his bleeding nostril.

"This happens often," Rachel surmised, noting his irritation and recalling their second meeting.

"Ever since they started this latest round of injections," he grumbled tersely, squatting and wiping his bloodied palm on the floor. It left a bright red smear between them which gleamed in the artificial light. Shaking his hand as if to fling off any residual wetness, he stood up again, scowling. " They've been coming in every other, I don't know, maybe every other morning. Hose me off like a dog, shoot me up with something, then leave."

He paused for a moment, then: "I don't know what they want, but sometimes I wish they'd just take it, you know? Just get it over with…"

Rachel looked down and the red on the floor, then back up at him, choosing her next move carefully. Beast Boy, who seemed to have become utterly absorbed in the task of changing his soaked tissue, didn't meet her gaze. Finally, after probably too much deliberation, she rolled her lips together and nodded to herself, stepping across the blood-smear carefully and reaching towards his face.

"Here, let me," she said in a low monotone. Emerald eyes flashed and with inhuman speed, Beast Boy caught her wrist. Rachel met his accusatory stare unfazed.

"It's all right," she soothed. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but if you give me a chance I might be able to be somewhat useful. Just relax for a second; I promise not to hit you or send you to any hell-dimensions."

His eyes narrowed, a snarl curving his lips, but if Rachel was intimidated she didn't show it. There was a moment of silent communication between them, of silent evaluation. Then Beast Boy's grip slackened his fingers slipping slowly off her skin. As he watched, a pale blue mist surrounded Rachel's hand, sparkling with a light of its own. Delicately, she pressed the cold tip of one finger onto the bridge of Beast Boy's nose, causing him to shudder. Yet there was something like warmth in her touch, something he didn't have time to describe. It was there, and then she was pulling away, stepping back and folding her arms. Her face was completely impassive.

"What did you-" he started in a breathy voice, probing his nose uncertainly.

"I have limited healing abilities," she cut him off. "You're not bleeding anymore."

"Is that how you're hand got better so fast," he asked without thinking, removing the bloodied tissue and looking for a place to store it.

"Why would you say that?" Despite her best efforts, Rachel couldn't keep all the suspicion out of her voice.

"Come on, I smelled it when the door got you," Beast Boy said, giving her an indignant look. "Now I know from experience, burns like that take weeks to heal. But when you came to see me a couple days later, it wasn't even bandaged, just a little raw."

"Perceptive."

"Not stupid, remember," he said with a grin. "So, what else can you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Moving stuff with your mind, healing," he listed, ticking them off on his fingers. "What else?"

"That's really not important."

"Come on!"

There was a strange look on his face; a goofy, playful grin that felt like a mere shadow of some expression from the past, yet still seemed a little too big in its own right. Primarily it annoyed Rachel. At the same time, though she was loathed to admit it, there was something admirably innocent in that smile. Some light that, even in the utter despair of his current imprisonment, refused to go out. It was endearing…

"Listen," she snapped, shaking off the sentiment. "I'm not here to entertain you. I came her for one, simple reason."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waiving her off. "You've got "questions."" He emphasized with air-quotes. "And when you first walked in, I had about zero intention of answering. I mean, I have, like, no incentive to help you out and, after last time when you pretty much called me evil, I think my care level may have gone negative."

Rachel gave an exasperated look and rolled her eyes.

"But now," Beast Boy continued, holding up one finger as if to express a particularly brilliant idea. "Now I've got some questions of my own. So how 'bout it? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours? What else can you do?"

"Now wait just a second you pointy eared little elf! I don't know where you got the idea, but you _do not _have the authority to-"

"Whoa, whoa! Chicks dig the pointy ears!"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Look who's talking! Come on, this isn't fair! I don't even know your name!"

"There's no reason you should."

"Then what am I supposed to call you? Creep-Demon Lady?"

"That's a moot point. You don't have to "call" me anything because everything you say, every conversation you have, will be with me. I am **literally** the only person you have to talk to. **There is no one else.**"

It was a low blow and she knew it even before it left her mouth. Beast Boy's smile dropped from his face as if someone had tied a rock to it then thrown it into a pond. He rolled his shoulders back and dropped his chin, giving her a predatory scowl that failed to conceal how much her words had truly stung. How deeply his isolation really cut. As frustration grew in his gut he turned away from her, stepping back and throwing the bloody tissues intentionally next to the discarded cheeseburger.

"You had some questions you wanted to ask," he said curtly, his voice oddly controlled and low. "So ask them."

Rachel, not oblivious to his sudden change in humor, tightened her jaw in an alien sense of shame.

"Garfield," she tried softly.

"**Ask Me!**"

She took in a long breath, held it tensely for a moment, then let it out in a resigned sigh. Damage done, she might as well get some information out of the train wreck. Feeling just a little disdain for her own coldness (a novelty which probably owed its origins to the rawness of Beast Boy's emotions), she pressed forward.

"What do you remember about the last couple nights? Has anything… noteworthy happened?"

"No," he answered shortly, not meeting her gaze. "Nothing "noteworthy-" nothing _literally_. Just me and the cell. The cameras could've told you that, but whatever."

There was another silence, this one charged and dangerous as a thunderstorm. Rachel didn't know what he wanted her to say and, for that matter, neither did Beast Boy. Something horrible, some terrible anger was building up inside him like a funnel cloud turning into a hurricane and Rachel sensed it. Like needles in her skin. And as he balled his fists in barely controlled rage, she sensed something else… Some fleeting phantom of a power she could almost name. Finally, Beast Boy couldn't take it any longer.

"Here," he snapped, turning his back to her and pulling her amulet from his waistband. He held it lightly and thrust it quickly towards her feet, as if it burned him. "Get out. Take that crap-" he jerked his head towards the trash "-and _just leave_."

So she did. She picked up the tissue and bag as if they were biohazards and left without another word. The second the door closed Beast Boy collapsed into a slouch. He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his messy green hair and then pressing his face into his palms. There was a constricted feeling in his throat and a burning sensation in his eyes; preludes of the tears he'd restrained for months. Yet there was something else, too, something new and unnerving. An ache in his gut and the vague feeling of movement inside his ribcage…


End file.
